Isolde decided to stay in the bath longer the water felt amazing on her aching bones, and she wanted to soak up as much of the steam as she could. Her mind wandered back to hours earlier, the events that occurred, she never thought she'd find herself in a conflict...ever. The stone circle, the dark magic, the rebel leader's scarred face - it was all so surreal. She shivered, remembering the way the ancient symbols seemed to pulse with otherworldly energy and the way her own magic had felt so unpredictable. She recalled how she felt her magic being pulled away from her like the source had tethered itself to her soul.
"Was it the stone?" As she pondered this, a soft knock at the door startled her. "Come in," Isolde called, her voice echoing slightly in the tiled room. She craned her neck over the edge of the tub to see who was coming in as the door creaked open, and a familiar face peeked in.
