The soul flame in Tommy's eye sockets burned with the specific, patient intensity of something that has always known it was going to become what it was becoming.
The outer forest held its quiet around them both.
And for one brief, genuine moment — before the hunger's practical demands and the next settlement's distance and the unresolved questions about Zerin and Ambrose and the Bloodborne ritual and everything the day had left open and unfinished reasserted themselves with their characteristic, relentless urgency — Lukas simply sat with what the day had made of him.
It was, he found, considerably more than what the day had started with.
