His gaze landed on Elias.
Paused.
Then dropped to Elara's hand still hovering near his.
Elias sat upright, the shard flaring once more, its rhythm no longer matching the ward's machinery—faster now. Defensive.
"Warden Geras needs a briefing," the guard said, voice clipped. Too formal to be offhand. Too steady to ignore the tension in the room.
Elara stepped back. The movement was fluid, trained. Her cheeks flushed, but her spine straightened, her posture snapping into form like a switch flipped behind her eyes.
"Understood," she said. "I'll handle it."
Cubes lifted into motion beside her, its mist spilling out across the floor in delicate arcs. The cold followed her steps like a trailing breath.
Elias stayed quiet.
The guard didn't move right away. Just watched him—too long. A beat past protocol.
Elias met his eyes.
Didn't blink.
The moment passed, and the man turned on his heel, boots hitting tile with even strikes as he stepped back into the corridor.
