Mikhailis let out a shaky sigh as he settled himself down in the secluded storeroom, his body still aching from the battle with Vyrelda. He winced as he adjusted his weight on the small wooden stool, the bruises across his body screaming for relief. But there was no time for rest, not now. He pulled out a parchment from his makeshift bag, unrolling it on the floor in front of him. His fingers felt stiff, every movement a reminder of just how close he'd come to death earlier.
"Alright, let's get to work," Mikhailis muttered to himself, pulling out a piece of charcoal.