The wound mends, the bleeding stops, and Kellon's pain becomes only a recent memory. Gweyir nods, satisfied that he's taken care of it himself. "I have some healing magic of my own, so keep that in mind while we're fighting these ghosts." She turns to look at Anton down the stairs. "What of you? It seems your magic is more than just empty boasts."

"Oh, well, given an hour I can put together a little something to help treat wounds," the soft highborn replies, considering his wand and whether to tuck it back into its place. Ultimately he decides to keep it out, in hand and ready. "By the way, that was no ghost, but a construct," he points his wand at some of the scattered pieces, as if seeing them again means anything more to the other two. "Animated armor. Popular security for nobility, or occultists of means."

"I don't think we can afford to leave any of us alone around here," Gweyir tells Kellon, largely tuning out Anton's ramblings.