Astron didn't need to look to know she'd been there.
The moment the connection terminated and silence fell back into the room, he had felt the faint shift in mana—barely a ripple, a breath of attention caught between the hall and the kitchen's edge.
But only now did he turn.
Irina stood by the doorway, her silhouette framed by the soft morning mana-light bleeding in through the filtered windows. She had a blanket loosely gathered around her arms, but her posture was straight. Awake. Observant.
Her amber eyes were already locked on him. Watching. Measuring.
"You had a call?" she asked.
Her voice was quiet. Not suspicious. Not sharp. But... steady. Intent.
"Yes," Astron replied simply, his tone unchanged.
There was no need to explain what kind of call. No need to fill the space with extra words. She wasn't asking for details yet. She didn't have to.
Not with that look.
Her eyes didn't soften. If anything, they sharpened slightly.
And then the real question came.
