The violent spatial vortex outside the clinic window imploded with a deafening crack, hurling an armored figure straight through the threshold.
Cessy watched Sava copy the asylum terms in Quiet Ink, testing whether the written protection would bind the city too.
Lucan rolled across the clinic floorboards, his dark Underworld cuirass heavily scarred and scorched by disciplinary lightning from the inquisitors' pursuit lines.
He rose to one knee with agonizing slowness, coughing up a mouthful of dark blood against the damp floorboards before catching his breath.
"Lucan... you made it through..." Cessy whispered from the recovery cot, her bandaged fingers trembling against the edge of the blanket.
The inquisitor looked across the quiet room, his eyes passing over the assembled summons before settling directly upon the young summoner standing before the hearth.
