The elevator doors split apart to reveal pandemonium in motion.
Alarms shrieked from every speaker, their piercing wails echoing off polished steel walls.
Emergency lights strobed crimson, casting everything in hellish snapshots of red and shadow.
"Well," Mochi chirped, bouncing on his toes as he surveyed the chaos, "someone's been having fun without us."
Cyrus stepped into the corridor, his pendant blazing hot against his chest.
The tracking spell pulled him forward with such intensity it nearly staggered him.
Kane was moving fast—not being dragged, but running under his own power.
The sterile hallways twisted and branched without logic, designed to confuse intruders.
But Kane's scent lingered in the recycled air, mixed with fear, determination, and something else that made Cyrus's jaw clench.
Synthetic compounds. Chemical burns. Pain.
"This way," Ginsei called from ahead, his serpentine senses tracking heat signatures through the walls.
They rounded a corner and froze.
