"Nothing," Flio said, exhaling a breath that ruffled the edges of the top page. "I mean, it's not literally nothing, but as far as what we were actually looking for? Dust. Echoes. A whole lot of useless ink."
Zarius didn't immediately reach for the report. He just sat there, the worn leather of his study chair creaking as he leaned back, the rough pads of his fingers coming up to scratch at his jawline. The stubble there was getting thick. He needed a shave, but honestly? Finding the energy to care about grooming when your veins were slowly turning to rotting stone was pretty challenging.
"Tell me anyway."
