Rain fell relentlessly that evening, streaking against the massive glass panels of the Eternal Era facility. The rhythmic hum of drops on the roof mixed with the soft thuds of boots on wet grass. Training had resumed, but the mood in the camp was far from normal.
Jason stood by the edge of the pitch, arms folded, eyes narrowed. His whistle dangled unused around his neck. Every player on the field was going through the motions, but one stood out or rather, didn't. Blaze.
Once a storm of movement, his strikes precise and fierce, now he moved with haunted restraint. He missed passes, lost footing, and sometimes simply stared at the ball as though it no longer mattered.
Jason exhaled, rubbing his temples. "He's here, but his heart isn't," he muttered under his breath.
