Night had once again swallowed the city.
In the cramped darkness of a small room on the tenth floor of the city, the sound of two exhausted women echoed faintly — the uneven rhythm of quickened breaths, the subtle rasp of boots against stone.
"Huff… huff…" Alina bent over, one hand clutching her chest, the other gripping her pink ponytail as though she might tear it out by the roots. Her eyes were wide with frustration. "Tell me, does that strange ghost have tracking abilities now? We've been changing trails every few hours — how can it keep finding us?"
Elara leaned her back against the wall, her silver hair sticking slightly to her damp cheeks. She forced a long breath past her lips, voice low and measured. "It probably does. The decoy traps we built yesterday didn't even last half a day. It's already adapted."
