Lexel let out a low, amused chuckle, his silver-gauntleted fingers casually tossing one of the heavy Black Swan seals into the air and catching it without looking. The icy wind howled through the clearing, carrying the faint, lingering scent of scorched snow and ozone from Tywain's collapsed spell.
"You've been watching for quite a while," Lexel noted, his eyes scanning her relaxed posture.
Ria brushed a stray lock of brilliant blue, crystal-like hair behind her ear, resting her wide-brimmed witch hat comfortably against her hip. She stood entirely at ease, her mana pool calm and unperturbed—a stark contrast to the aggressive, explosive flares of Crow and Tywain.
