The pocket dimension greeted him with the same soft light and drifting auroras as before.
Celestia still sat cross-legged on the bed of condensed cloud, silver hair floating gently around her shoulders. The living storm lattice of her inheritance moved through her meridians in slow, perfect cycles—currents of controlled wind and violet lightning that never touched the silk sheets yet made the air around her feel sharper, clearer. Nyla lay on her stomach nearby, chin propped on both hands, the gold-and-crimson curiosity engine flickering restlessly beneath her skin. Every so often she would smile at something only she could feel and mutter a quiet challenge toward the inheritance itself, as if daring it to keep up with her.
Both women looked up the moment Runar reappeared.
Celestia's eyes were calm and perceptive. Nyla's carried that familiar spark of curiosity mixed with quiet satisfaction.
"You're back," Celestia said simply.
