"Loki…"
As soon as that name left Lucivar's mouth, Leandra immediately averted her gaze.
Her entire being shuddered, as if her strength was draining away, and she might melt into the ground.
Even earlier, seconds earlier, her gaze only brushed the outline of his face and recoiled.
An invisible weight pressed her soul down. Not physical. Deeper. And her mind refused to process what it saw, retreating like a flame touched by the wind. It was an instinctual response—that to truly see this old man would mean unravelling something vital inside herself.
It was the universe's way of reminding her of not meeting his gaze.
Because lesser things were never meant to meet the gaze of something so absolute.
He is a God!
Lucivar, on the other hand, wasn't deterred.
He might not be in the realm of absolute like Loki, but he was able to peek inside without repercussion.
Loki approached.
His cane made a subtle, dull sound against the pavement, but echoed loudly in their minds.
