Chapter 144: Purifying The Well
The air around the well seemed to hold its breath, as if the entire village was waiting for something grand to happen.
A mixture of awe, skepticism, and silent curiosity hung thick in the air. The villagers stood in tight clusters, eyes trained on Cyrus. Some whispered among themselves, others barely breathed.
Cyrus, standing just a few paces away from the well, extended his hands over the water, his posture calm and composed.
His fingers hovered above the surface, just a hair’s breadth from the clear liquid, and the faintest shimmer of light began to glimmer at the edges of his palms.
It wasn’t much at first—just a soft flicker, like a distant star trying to peek through the fog. But that small flicker grew, expanding slowly, gradually.
It was so subtle that most of the villagers didn’t even notice at first. It was as if the magic were a quiet pulse, something too soft and ethereal to be noticed unless you were paying close attention.
The tips of his fingers began to glow faintly, a soft white-blue light that stretched in wisps toward the water, like threads of moonlight being drawn down to touch the surface. Still, no one dared move. Not even a whisper broke the air.
Isabella stood off to the side, watching with narrowed eyes. She felt something stir in her chest, a strange mixture of admiration and... something else she couldn’t quite place.
Despite knowing that Cyrus had the power to use magic, seeing it with her own eyes was different. There was something almost serene about the way he approached it—no rush, no arrogance, just a quiet determination.
Opehlia, standing beside Isabella, was wide-eyed, her mouth slightly agape as she watched the scene unfold. She was in awe, not just of the magic but of Cyrus’ composure.
He didn’t even seem to notice the way the villagers watched him like he was some sort of miracle. He was so... ordinary in his demeanor, yet the magic spilling from his hands was far from ordinary.