The air inside the meditation cave was thick with the scent of damp limestone and the ancient, stagnant smell of undisturbed earth. Located deep within the jagged mountain peaks that loomed like silent sentinels behind the palace, the cave was a natural pocket of concentrated energy, shielded from the prying eyes of the court. Water dripped from the ceiling with a rhythmic, maddening persistence, each splash echoing against the crystalline walls. Constantine sat cross-legged on a flat, freezing stone slab at the center of the chamber. He had shed his heavy royal cloak, wearing only a thin tunic that did little to protect him from the biting subterranean chill. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and shallow, as he attempted to bridge the gap between his vast, ancient soul and the frag
