Don’t stop.
Her body feels distant. Like it belongs to someone else.
The blood loss is real now.
Heavy.
Cold.
The corridor bends and she follows it without thinking, half-running, half-collapsing forward with every step.
There is only one direction.
Forward.
She bursts through the bronze doors half-blind with blood loss, stumbling toward the palace entrance like she’s still dehydrated in the Matuli Desert.
Lanternlight burns her eyes.
The palace halls stretch ahead in polished gold and lacquered wood.
And… guards.
Three of them stand at the far end of the corridor. The only thing standing between her and the outside of this Starsdamned castle.
Their armor gleams in the lanternlight. Their swords remain sheathed. Elyssara stumbles toward them anyway, blade clutched feebly in her hand, scraping against the lacquered floor.
“Move,” she rasps.
The guards exchange a glance.
Then—they step aside.Deliberately.
They part just enough for her to pass.
No one raises a weapon.
No one gives chase.
Elyssara staggers between them, every instinct screaming for the strike that never comes.
Her pulse hammers.
The palace entrance.
Another pair of guards.
They see the blood soaking her dress.
See the sword in her shaking hand.
And they move.
Out of her path.
Like doors opening.
Like the palace itself is guiding her out.
