= Amara =
“We’ll assume the temple was calling to you,” he said, voice casual, almost lazy, like he was commenting on the weather instead of something that could very well change the course of everything. Then, without another word, he picked up his fork and began eating, completely unfazed, as if the revelation he had just delivered didn’t carry the weight of worlds.
I blinked at him for a moment, stunned. The words—or maybe the way he said them—hung in the air, heavy and strange, twisting through my thoughts. Then, almost without thinking, I followed his lead, cutting into my own meal. The scrape of metal against the plate was painfully ordinary, grounding me, anchoring me to something real, even as my mind spun a thousand directions at once.
“But…why?” I finally asked, my voice quiet
