The corridor leading to the Balance Keepers' Archives felt colder and longer than ever before. Each step Nihil took was a calculated struggle. He refused Lyraelle's help this time, forcing his body to walk on its own, his back straight despite every muscle fiber screaming protest. The silver wound on his shoulder pulsed with a cold light, a constant reminder of his failure, of his limits. He no longer saw it as a wound. He saw it as an anomaly within his own system, a bug to be fixed.
Elara walked beside him, her data tablet hovering calmly, but her sharp eyes never strayed far from Nihil, monitoring his unstable vitals. Lyraelle walked behind them, her hands resting on her sword hilts, not as a guard, but as an anxious witness.
