Our origin
A sigh of relief escaped Itziar upon seeing a familiar face.
Aris gently touched Itziar's face, carefully massaging the wrinkles that had formed between her eyebrows.
"Are you alright? You seemed to be remembering something bad," Aris asked nervously.
Noticing that Itziar wanted to get up, she walked away. Itziar sat on the ground and hugged her shoulders, rubbing them in an attempt to eliminate the sensation of the man's hands on her skin.
Not receiving an answer, Aris's concern escalated.
"Did it happen again?" Aris approached Itziar again, scrutinizing her pale face. "You've been acting like this ever since you absorbed the Eloah from the flowers."
Itziar blinked slowly trying to process what she had heard and looked at Aris modestly. The next moment, her eyes widened.
"I'm fine, it's until I get used to it," Itziar replied indifferently.
[Didn't you have short hair?], her true voice echoed inside her head.