The young man emerged from his shadow portal in front of the mansion, One still unconscious in his arms. He walked toward the entrance without urgency, his steps measured and even. He pushed the door open with his shoulder, entered, and navigated corridors that were empty despite the size of the building.
He walked through what appeared to be living spaces—sitting rooms with furniture that looked comfortable but unused, a kitchen that showed no signs of recent meals being prepared, bedrooms with beds that were made but never slept in.
Finally, he reached a door at the end of a long corridor. This one was different from the others. Reinforced, metal banded. The kind of door meant to keep something contained.
He opened it.
