The study was quiet, a hushed sanctuary tucked into the back of the sprawling packhouse. Dust motes danced lazily in thick, golden shafts of light that spilled through the tall, arched windows, illuminating the countless ancient particles suspended in the air.
Lyra stood in the doorway for a moment, her gaze drawn to Xander, who was hunched over a massive, ornate desk, deeply engrossed in a heavy, leather-bound book.
He was shirtless, a testament to his recent training session, his skin still gleaming faintly with sweat. Muscles shifted subtly beneath his tanned chest as he scribbled notes with a chewed-up pen, the rhythmic scratching the only sound breaking the quiet.
His brow was furrowed in intense concentration, his lips slightly parted, completely absorbed in the task at hand.
L
