Their first conversation was not an exchange of words, but a convergence of being.
Kael’s resonant hum deepened, and in its vibration, Anya tasted the memory of a star being born.
Lyra’s question unfurled, not as a thought, but as a wave of coolness that washed over them, carrying with it the scent of Silus’s quiet strength.
It was a language of pure meaning, where a single sensation could contain the entirety of a novel, a single shared feeling could build a world.
They were not just speaking; they were weaving, and the tapestry was listening.