(Time-Stilled World, A Lost Conclave, Leo's POV)
Leo didn't move at first.
He just stood there, torch still in hand, staring at the mural— more specifically, at the dragon— because something about the way it faced the sun, so unlike the others, gnawed at the edge of his thoughts like a whisper he couldn't quite hear yet.
Staring at the dragon, Leo felt his anxiety begin to stir. It wasn't fear, nor was it awe. It was something far stranger.
A quiet, inexplicable pull crept through him, tugging at the edges of his soul, making the blood in his veins feel warmer than it should, as if something ancient and long buried inside him had begun to wake.
'This… isn't normal,' he thought, finally dragging his gaze away, as he turned and slowly scanned the rest of the room with fresh eyes, as the more he looked the more he found.
