On the pane, Rhaen paused in a side pocket.
A second figure slid out of the wall like a shadow.
Mikhailis blinked.
Sea-Glass? Already?
He kept his face neutral.
Cerys stood to his right, arms crossed, expression flat. Lira was behind him, elegant as always even when her eyes were tired. Serelith lounged on a chair like she owned the tent. Vyrelda sat farther back with her hands folded.
Elowen watched from the near corner, quiet, composed.
The second figure held up something flat.
Writing.
Mikhailis exhaled slowly.
"Ghosts," he muttered, voice low.
Cerys glanced at him.
"Ghosts?"
"Not the scary kind," he said. "The annoying kind that steal your lunch and call it strategy."
Serelith's smile sharpened.
"Oh? You've met them?"
"Not personally," Mikhailis replied. "But I've heard enough stories to dislike them with confidence."
Mikhailis didn't react outwardly.
