Esen's grin looked crooked.
He stood just inside the ring of lights with snow packed to his shins and a bundle of cut branches hanging off his shoulder like a bad joke. A split ran across his sleeve from armpit to cuff, cloth stiff and dark at the edge. Ichiro was worse - coat scraped, one glove glossy with blood at the wrist, the kind of steady in his jaw that meant he was choosing not to shake.
Everyone crowded without being asked. Feris first, chin high. Keahi hovered near the perimeter, hands open and ready. Lynea watched with the stillness of a person memorizing angles.
"What did you see?" Raizen asked.
"Shadows" Esen said, then stopped, because the word felt too small. He swallowed. "Wrong shadows. Moving ahead of us. Like we were walking into our own footprints."
Ichiro's voice was flat. "Reflections that didn't wait for us. The snow changed texture when it passed. Then - Nyxes. Fast ones. Fortitude five or six. Not sure though."
"You fought?" Keahi asked.
