"Damn."
Caeden blinked.
His head turned slowly. "Did you just…?"
Elayne didn't look at him. She was still watching Lucavion—expression unreadable, arms folded, eyes sharp behind their usual glass calm.
"What did you say?" he asked again, brow slightly raised.
She turned to meet his gaze. "Damn."
A pause.
"…Do you know what it means?" Caeden asked, half-skeptical, half amused.
Elayne blinked once. "Isn't it something you use when you see something exceptional?"
Caeden huffed a quiet breath through his nose. "...Yes. But I didn't think you used words like that."
"Neither did I." She said it without inflection. Just fact.
Then she lifted a hand. Not quickly. Just a small gesture, like pointing out a crack in the wall someone else hadn't noticed.
Her finger aimed not at Lucavion—but the trees.
Or more precisely—what wasn't happening to them.
Caeden frowned. "What?"
"The flames," she said, quietly. "They're not burning the trees."
He turned his head.
Looked again.
