Darkness surrounded Asher.
But it wasn't the kind of darkness that suffocated.
No—this was different.
This darkness was alive.
It pulsed, breathed, and whispered as it wrapped around him like a vast, ancient ocean.
He sat cross-legged, still as stone, his body cloaked in tendrils of dark green mana that swirled like serpents in an eternal spiral. They slithered through the air, rippling with ancient power, not corrupted or vile—but pure, refined beyond the comprehension of mortal creation.
This mana didn't burn bright like radiant energy nor dark like demonic mana. It simply was. Unshackled, formless, timeless.
And as Asher drank it in, he understood why Skully called it divine. He could still hear everything that was happening around him despite being deep in mediation.
