The boot prints were getting clearer.
Smudged near the heel. Left foot dragging a little.
He knew what that meant.
Injury. Likely leg or ankle. Maybe ribs. Hard to tell from just the stride pattern.
He crouched for a second, fingertips brushing the edge of one print.
Still damp.
Recent.
She wasn't far.
The air ahead curved again—another one of those twisted stone passages that looked like they looped but didn't. Just a trick of the architecture. A favorite in this domain.
He moved fast. Not running. Just clean.
The kind of pace you used when your heartbeat started getting ideas, but your head refused to listen.
[SYSTEM CORE: 78%]
[COOLDOWN WINDOW: ACTIVE]
[SUGGESTED ACTION: PROCEED WITH CAUTION]
He ignored it.
One more corner.
Then he saw her.
Seraphina.
Sitting on the floor, back against the wall, legs drawn up, arms wrapped around herself.
Her head was down. Shoulders shaking.
He slowed. Quiet. Careful.
Then she looked up.
