The corridor was long and quiet, carved straight through dwarven stone with the kind of precision that spoke of centuries of refinement. Heat-veins ran along the walls like glowing arteries, their amber light soft and steady, warming the air without suffocating it. Every footstep echoed faintly.
Luca moved slowly.
Bandages wrapped nearly every visible part of his body—arms, shoulders, ribs, even parts of his neck. His steps were careful, measured, supported by the crutches in his hands. Each movement pulled at something that hadn't fully healed yet, sending dull reminders through muscle and bone.
If someone told me ten days ago…
he thought grimly,
that I'd be walking these corridors like this—alive—
His gaze shifted sideways.
Durgan Blackvein walked beside him.
