Zyra POV
The darkness doesn’t frighten me anymore. That realization hits me harder than any trap. Fear has turned into something colder, sharper calculation.
Survival. I stand still in the pitch-black chamber, chest rising and falling unevenly, blood drying against my skin. My body aches from Level One, but pain has become background noise.
Dael is beside me.
Not hidden, Not imagined,Not distant.
I know exactly where he stands, slightly ahead, his crimson wolf mask tilted toward the corridor on the left, shoulders squared like he’s bracing for war. He doesn’t look at me, not fully, but every shift of his body tells me what to do.
Left is death. Right is worse.
Straight ahead is… possible.
“You’re doing a terrible job at pretending you’re not helping me,” I mutter under my breath.
