Ares watched Eberhard disappear around the corner, the air immediately grew heavy, too heavy. The silence that followed pressed in on him from every side, like the walls themselves were closing in.
He drew a breath, but it scraped through his chest like gravel. His hands curled into fists, then loosened again, restless, trembling. His heart hammered against his ribs, each beat faster, harder.
Then the memories hit him.
Blood, everywhere.
Smoke swallowing the night.
Screams, lots of screams.
His father's hand reaching out through the flames before it disappeared.
A child's desperate coughs echoing through a burning room.
Ares's vision blurred; the hallway twisted, flickering between past and present. His breath hitched. He groaned, stumbling forward, his palm slapping the wall for balance as he half-staggered, half-dragged himself toward his suite. The hallway stretched endlessly, his own heartbeat deafening in his ears.
