Xenia makes a sound of assent. The robes faded, just like the light.

"We're okay," she says unconvincingly, patting her arm woodenly, distracted in thought. "And I'm Xenia, if you can't tell. I'm" --she pauses to confirm-- "missing my wand."

It isn't holstered in her sleeve, where it should be, and the pink fabric with its pattern of cheerful Kneazles seems pitifully childish in this situation. She doubles down on her observation of the hatch to make up for it. Those glyphs are knowable. She'll write them down with everything she remembers as soon as possible. Four of us, four keys... Fire, water, earth... Something... And forget. Something said...