The night air along the southern coast carried salt and endless rhythms—waves crashing against rocks with persistent inevitability that made time feel negotiable. Riyan walked alone beyond the security perimeter Serx had established, his Darkness affinity coiling comfortably in shadows that seemed deeper here where civilization barely touched.
He'd left the training camp without explanation. Livia and Raven were sleeping, exhausted from combination technique development. Serx was maintaining vigilant watch, but even fanatical devotion couldn't track Riyan when he deliberately applied Darkness manipulation to avoid detection.
Sometimes strategic genius required solitude—space to think without calculations being observed, without people interpreting his thoughts through their emotional frameworks, without constant performance of being whoever they needed him to be.
