Touching The Spirit
Under a shadow-dappled tree in Tinkertwist's backyard, Cyrus found himself a spot of solitude. He eased his back against the rugged bark, his muscles sighing in relief as he finally had a moment of tranquility. His gaze roved over the wild foliage around him, the gnome's peculiar machines humming in the background. A gentle breeze swirled, carrying the scent of damp earth and a hint of mechanical oil, a distinctive fragrance that was slowly becoming familiar.
For the past two years, Cyrus and Queen had been grappling with the unique abilities that Legion had bestowed upon him. He'd wrestled with the abstract concepts of time and space, flexed his mind until it ached with exhaustion, and had only scratched the surface. He was still a novice, he admitted, humbled by the vast sea of possibilities that lay ahead.