The Ice Belle had listened without interruption while Lucas laid out the design of what was to come. She had circled him in silence, her presence shifting with each layer of instruction, absorbing not only his words but the intent beneath them. When at last he finished, and the valley ahead stirred with distant preparation, she grew still.
"I understand," she said quietly.
Her voice carried the faint resonance of frozen glass touched by wind, delicate yet edged with certainty. There was no hesitation in it now. Whatever doubt or desire to prove herself had driven her into the forest days earlier had hardened into resolve.
Lucas inclined his head once in acknowledgment. He did not praise her. He did not question her. Understanding was enough.
He signaled to Volde.
"Come."
