"Y-yes, Mom," the words came out of his mouth, a raw, high-pitched whisper, unmistakably the voice of his child self.
His mother smiled, a warmth emanating from her that chased away the lingering chill of the anchor chamber. She reached out, her fingers gently caressing his face a few times.
Aman's carefully constructed mental defenses crumbled, his mind succumbing to the powerful illusion.
The anchor chamber, the raging blizzard outside, Zephyr, the Baron, the Lament Shroud - all of it faded, replaced by the vivid, comforting reality of his childhood home.
"Alright, I'm going!" he chirped, a wide, genuine smile spreading across Aman's small face.
He waved back at his mother, who stood smiling by the fireplace. He snatched his familiar winter cap from a hook on the wall, tugging it firmly over his head. Though in reality, his hand had pressed the subtle mechanism to open the chamber's heavy door, a soft click barely audible over the hum of the pylons.
