A refreshing wash of relaxed mind and muscle greeted Ixion as he stretched in his bed. The faint scent of lavender clinging to the air.
Unlike Ixion, the shadows seemed a little restless.
"Ah, I never wish to be a thrall again!"
Oh, how he didn't envy those guards who stood and walked all hours of the day.
Somewhere beyond his chamber, distant footsteps echoed in a steady rhythm, a quiet reminder of his burdens. Ignoring his usual routine, he didn't even bother to check his Soul Scripture.
He'd already been reminded enough of the path he must walk.
Ixion slipped out of bed and got dressed. The fabric of his attire falling neatly into place.
"How nice of her to return it."
His autobiography lay on his personal desk in pristine condition. Thumbing through the pages, he confirmed they were all intact, then slid it into the drawer and took out the scroll of desire.
