The passage stretched ahead of them, upwards and upwards along long cold steps. It didn't care how much they bled.
The only sounds were the echoing of their boots on old stone, strained breathing and drips falling from cracks in the ceiling. The sealed doors behind them meant they couldn't hear anything from the concourse area. No horns, no shouting and no solid ranks pressing against the walls. It should've felt relieving but instead felt like they'd entered an entirely new map.
Sera's arm was still linked with Lucian's neck while her other hand gripped her side. She had given up trying to pretend the wound wasn't serious and every third step drew out a small whine which she tried to suppress.
"Still not dead," she grumbled.
"Notice that," Lucian replied.
