Zza felt the world stretching under her feet like someone grabbed both ends of the hallway and pulled until the floor whined. The breath inside her chest scraped upward. Her pulse jittered in her claws. The dark ahead wasn't just dark — it was thick, like stepping inside the memory of a shadow instead of an actual one.
She kept going.
Her legs didn't want to.
Her nerves begged to stop.
Her mind tried to collapse inward the second the walls whispered her name again.
But she pushed through all of it.
The floor dipped.
A soft glow lit the far end of the corridor — faint gold, pulsing in slow waves. Zza braced herself, already knowing what shape she expected to see.
And she saw him.
Buzz.
A broken Buzz, sitting slumped against the far wall. His wings hung limp, crushed. His head sagged forward. His claws trembled in his lap. He looked small. Smaller than she remembered. Like someone folded him into a version that forgot how to fight.
Her breath cracked.
"Buzz…?"
