Malakai left the room and came into a long hall. He began sprinting at a steady pace. His legs were still bare, and he made sure his steps were nonexistent.
As he came by his first turn, the sounds of two people conversing reached his ears. Malakai's gaze flashed cold.
'Pulse silence.'
His blood churned then stilled. His heartbeat slowed to a crawl and his temperature plummeted until he was as cold as the underground air.
'Blood anchor.'
Malakai was on his feet the next moment, his blood solidifying on the soles of his feet and palms. He stuck to the surface of the wall, moving up to the ceiling.
"…I'm telling you, cold mashed potatoes taste better than warm."
"That's because you're a lunatic."
"No, it's because I have taste buds that work."
"You wish."
Malakai watched calmly as the men walked away without being able to see him.
'Sanguine warriors.'
