"Sometimes," Celehar murmurs, eventually. His voice doesn't quite have the ring of agreement to it - given all his talk of the dangers of lingering spirits, perhaps it's no surprise that he disagrees with the sentiment, and finds the ghosts to be all the more concerning.

Or maybe it's the lingering doubt - the wonder, who those wraiths were. Whether the voice fading from his mind was really out there, hanging on the edge of the light, waiting for him, for all of them. Celehar bites the inside of his lip, instead of saying it. Sunny already looks worn, and the boy is quiet - his concerns are not appropriate to voice, here in this moment. Better let the young man take some ease and rest, now that the worst is over.

"Might we move closer to the lantern?" he suggests, instead.