Elayra listened closely as Ghent repeated both words, making sure he said each one right. She gave a slight, nearly imperceptible nod when he pronounced them correctly. 
	She blinked in the ever-fading light. What had once been a bright, electric glow had dimmed to a disorientating blue tint, casting just enough light to make out the vague shapes around her. A shiver ran through her, the chill of the night seeping even into the clearing. Even the Safe Zone could not keep out the weather.
	In the partial light, she was certain she saw Drust’s shoulders move, trying to adjust. A gentle groan rose from the Knight, confirming her thought.
	Elayra stood and pulled her sword from the ground as Ghent reached toward the woodpile.
	When Ghent braved focusing on calling upon the world’s magic, it took longer to reach him than it had in his last panicked haste. It toyed once more around the edges of his senses, like a sound just faint enough to know something was there, watching, just out of sight, before slinking into clear view.
	Elayra glanced toward the boy at the sound of his voice, only for him to trail off. She frowned at his hesitation, but forced herself to refocus on [i]her[/i] task, not Ghent’s.
	The magic flared around Ghent, more irritated than even Elayra at his pause. It pulsed around him, the sensation driving deep into Ghent as if to give him an impatient shove at being kept waiting yet again.
	[b]“Igniculous!”[/b]
	In an instant, the sensation of the magic’s presence intensified, releasing its impatience. It welled in his core, creating an uncomfortable heat. It spread down his outstretched arms, momentarily driving the cold from his body. A burst of flame shot from his palms into the woodpile, its release draining the warmth with it.
	The logs of the wood caught as if drenched in too much lighter fluid. They burst into a blazing fire with a startling [i]whoosh[/i]. A few sparks sputtered up into the air above as the orbs of blue fizzled out of existence.
	Elayra jumped and spun around to face Ghent, ready to cut Drust’s binds if they needed to flee. Instead, she stared in shock at the rutilant flames setting the clearing aglow. They settled down within the confines of the circle of stones, content without the influence of magic to gnaw on the dead tree limbs.
	Fabric rustled against fabric as Drust stirred once more.
	Elayra spun back to face her guardian, his form now a mix of golden light and shadows. He tried to move his arms, but the rope snagged them, keeping them in place. He froze, his wrists still pulling the rope taught.
	“Elayra!” he shouted in a growled, sleepy panic as he pulled at the ropes anew.
	“Drust!” Elayra half hopped, half ran the couple necessary steps to put herself in front of him as he managed to raise his upper body. “We’re fine!” Keeping as safe of a distance from him as the small clearing allowed, she crouched before the now kneeling man.
	Partially illuminated by the fire, his chest heaved with heavy, angered breaths. A few bits of dirt and grass stuck to his lean face, but did little to counter the menace twisting his pale lips. The black-veined red of his irises pulsed steadily, threatening to consume even his pupils. The lines stretching from the corners of his eyes throbbed in time with the others, spreading dangerously over his skin.
	“Drust, listen!” Elayra implored, struggling to keep her anxiety and fatigue from showing. Though not fully consumed by the Curse, Drust was far too close to it for comfort. She cast a quick glance toward Ghent, trying to tell him with her gaze alone to stay quiet. “We’re [i]safe.[/i] All of us.”
	It took Drust a moment to focus on Elayra.  He blinked hard and shook his head, trying to clear the lingering effects of the sleeping mist. He closed his eyes and took a few breaths. The crackle and snapping of the fire chewing on its food filled the clearing.
	“You… found a Safe Zone.” His words came in a groggy, tight slur.
	Elayra let out a relieved sigh. She practically melted into a kneeling position on the grass; no gravely undertone marred his voice. Slowly, even the dark veins stretching over his alabaster skin shrunk to their normal size and stilled.
	Finally, [i]something[/i] had gone as she had hoped. Mostly.
	“Ghent found a tichari,” she explained, incapable of keeping her relief from her voice.
	“Good,” he appraised with a nod. He took another breath and opened his eyes, meeting Elayra’s gaze. He looked her over, concern in his eyes, and his jaw clenched. He glanced down with a heavy sigh, then jerked his head backward, indicating his bindings.
	Elayra hesitated. If something aggravated the Curse again, she would not last long against him. As much as she wanted to trust him, the Curse’s instability in him had grown. But leaving him tied up when he appeared to have it under control felt [i]wrong.[/i] Besides, if something happened and they needed him...
	She eyed him for just a moment in her debate before speaking. “Are you—”
	“I’m fine,” he cut her off, his tone cool but even.
	“I was going to ask if you’re [i]sure[/i],” she offered a weary, half-hearted smirk, “but that works, too.”
	Drust raised an eyebrow, watching as she sheathed her sword. She stood slowly, stepped to Drust’s side, and reached for the rope.
	Drust bowed his head and took another deep breath. “Elayra—”
	“Yeah,” she interrupted, recognizing the uncharacteristically soft tone and quiet voice. Her volume matched his, her attention focused more on Drust’s bound hands then necessary. “I know.” She hated when he apologized.
	She felt his back move with another sigh as she reached to begin untying the knot she had made, wanting to save as much rope as possible. Especially if they ended up needing it again.