The outline of the human silhouette dissolved into nothing.
Neither of them moved. Neither gave chase.
In a collapsing architecture where spatial geometry re-formed on a whim, pursuing a phantom would definitely ask for trouble.
Galathea Brooks kept her spine locked, her back anchored firmly against a cracked pillar of reinforced stone. Her heart thudded against her ribs-- a dull, rhythmic pulse that vibrated straight through her collarbone. Beside her, Tansy remained completely frozen, her hair tangled and dull against her frayed collar.
Then, the static changed.
It was not a sound at first, but a low frequency that hummed beneath the soles of Galathea's shoes. The surrounding darkness did not shift, yet the air turned strangely frigid, smelling faintly of ozone and damp earth.
Tansy stepped forward, her slender posture going rigid. "...Wait."
Galathea watched her with guarded eyes, her fingers tightening around the heavy edge of her coat. "What is it?"
