Retrospectively, there were worse things to spark concern, but Lan Wangji still remembers how long and grim Dark felt -- the feeling that there was some lurking coil of resentful energy around every corner, how quickly and dramatically Sagramore's hair greyed, how little he slept. It makes him fonder still of Magnus to think that, during the lowest point of winter, he reached within himself and found this well of light and growth. He wants to say something about it, and about how glad he is that Magnus is here, but the swell of feeling stops his tongue. He's quiet, looking at Magnus with love caught in this throat.