Nobody saw the fox leave.
Vane looked for her once they sat down, the same way he instinctively looked for doors in unfamiliar rooms.
The space between the two roots was empty.
No movement.
No fading signature.
Nothing.
She had simply chosen not to be there anymore.
Vane understood why.
Whatever Lancelot was about to say had belonged to him long before it belonged to any mystery they were trying to solve.
The fox had brought them to the answer.
She had no intention of standing over him while he gave it.
Lancelot sat across from them on a fallen trunk.
The dark iron broadsword rested across his knees.
Ashe sat nearest.
Then Vane.
Isole, Valerica, Nyx, Mara.
Anastasia remained standing.
She had taken a place just beyond the edge of the group with her arms folded, posture perfectly controlled.
Vane had the distinct sense that sitting would have felt too much like accepting whatever came next.
Lancelot looked at all of them.
"I'll say it once."
Nobody spoke.
