The low, flickering light in the alcove stretched long shadows across the rough stone walls, casting an ethereal, uncertain glow across the space. Mikhailis' breath came steady, controlled, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his pulse. He stood there, just beyond the warmth of the ember's glow, watching Elowen. Her presence flooded the space with an almost palpable sense of relief—but only for a moment. Beneath her composed exterior, there was something else, something far deeper, that Mikhailis could sense but could not yet name.
Elowen stepped into the alcove, and for a second, Mikhailis felt an overwhelming rush of comfort. She was here, safe. That was all that mattered. But as she lingered there in the warm amber light, her face illuminated, he could feel it—the tension, the weight pressing down on her. It was subtle, but it was there.
