Seirion ran.
He didn't remember initiating the movement. His body simply reacted, instinctive, desperate, with the urgency of someone who had just lost something precious without understanding how.
The clearing was empty. The leaves still shifted in the wind that had brushed Erian's skin minutes earlier, but he was gone.
Seirion's chest tightened with a sharp ache.
"Erian…" he whispered.
But the night did not answer.
Seirion moved into the trees, breathing fast, his heart pounding against his ribs. He tried to locate Erian in the only way a god could: extending his perception, that divine ability that let him sense someone's presence at a distance, like a faint pulse or a spiritual mark.
But when he looked for Erian… he found nothing.
Seirion tried again and again, extending his perception farther, deeper, trying to feel even the weakest signal, the faintest trace of him. But no matter how he tried, he could not find Erian.
