"It's gone," Seraphina whispered, her eyes wide with wonder. "The fog is gone. It's quiet now."
Kaelus looked at the empty air, then looked at the sunlight hitting her face.
He didn't understand the mechanics of her vision, but he understood the result.
She looked peaceful.
"Good," Kaelus said simply, standing up and lifting her effortlessly into the crook of his arm. "Because it is about time we departed. The stench of this place offends me."
If the interrogation had been a masterclass in terror, the preparations for departure were a masterclass in absurdity.
Kaelus von Nacht, a man who normally traveled with nothing but a sword, a change of clothes, and a map, had suddenly realized that transporting a small, fragile, easily-bruised biological asset required a terrifying amount of logistics.
He stood in the courtyard, his arms crossed over his chest, acting as the supreme commander of the packing process.
