Mikhailis rested his elbows on the scarred oak bench, the emerald-leaf box between him and Serelith like a small, stubborn kingdom that still needed a treaty. The lamplight struck the heart-wood lid and bounced soft green flecks across their cheeks. Rodion hovered to one side, white shell bobbing in the warm currents rising from rune burners. At a glance the AI looked like a thoughtful cushion—harmless, huggable—but the faint blue slit cutting across its "face" tracked every motion with tireless precision.
Serelith smoothed a curl of pink hair behind one ear, then let her palm drift across the bench's pitted grain. "This place…" she murmured, violet eye sweeping over coiled wires, rune-etched lenses, and the neat rows of tiny chimera tools lining the far wall. "It's bigger than half the academy's research wing. How long did it take you?"
