Mikhailis stood motionless in the green-lit hollow, breathing as slow as a winter lizard. Phosphorescent caps ringed the clearing like muted lanterns, each one piping a gentle aurora into the darkness beneath the colossal roots. The glow painted his skin a ghostly jade, but even that eerie wash failed to hide the nervous sheen on his brow.
Across from him, a dozen elves fanned out in a silent crescent. Their bows were pale as moon-bone, their arrowheads crystalline and bright enough to catch every tremor of light. Long ears tapered to frost-thin points, and across bare forearms ran blue glyphs that pulsed with the same tempo as the rune buried under Mikhailis's cuff. He raised his hands higher, elbows locked to show he carried nothing more lethal than his own heartbeat.
