"Pulse frequency accelerating—sea vent is primary amplifier."
The lantern in Korin's hands pulsed azure, answering the invisible beat beneath their boots. Vaelira followed the light as if it were a living compass. The soft wash of color reflected against her cheekbones, lending her frost-pale face an otherworldly glow. For a breath she looked less like a commander and more like a statue dedicated to lost victories.
"The vapor?" she asked.
Draven shifted a fraction to signal the boy. Korin obliged, tilting the lantern until light spilled on the snow. Crystals of ice reflected the blue, turning the ground into a field of drowned stars.
"Same signature," Korin whispered. Even hushed, the words carried the tremor of prophecy. "Like the root, but deeper—salted."
A low ripple of conversation threatened among the captains. Draven raised one hand—a small motion, but the ridge fell still. He had learned early that silence, properly timed, could control men as surely as any rank badge.
