Kei closed his eyes .
Not Stealth Arts still . Not the tactical stillness of a fighter reading a room . The other kind — the kind Rada had described in the root enclosure's pre-first-light darkness with the specific precision of someone who knew exactly what she was asking him to attempt and exactly how difficult it would be .
Simply still .
The Mimic Moss cycled around the enclosure's open fourth side . The boundary's fractured darkness beyond it carried the quiet of the inactive sky cycle at its deepest point . The root arch overhead filtered nothing — the boundary's pre-light atmosphere sitting against the enclosure's elevated floor with the specific weight of a place that had never been warm .
He did not follow the Moss's replays . He did not track the boundary's darkness for fracture patterns . He did not reach for the VDU or the inventory or the threat assessment that had been running below conscious decision level since before the Cruentus treeline .
