The younger man's hand moved—a blur of motion as steel hissed from its sheath.
He spun, blade already extended, pointing directly at the shadowed alcove.
Nothing.
Empty space.
His eyes narrowed, scanning every corner, every shadow.
'Impossible.'
His grip tightened on the sword.
'Only three people I know can vanish like that.'
"Is something wrong, Lit?"
The older man's voice came from behind him, casual but curious.
Lit didn't lower his blade immediately. His gaze lingered on the darkness for another heartbeat before he finally sheathed the sword with a smooth click.
"Nothing," he said. "Thought I sensed something. Must've been the wind."
"Heh... heh heh." The old man's laugh rattled in his chest. "You're too paranoid, boy. This place is making you jumpy."
Lit turned back, falling into step beside him.
But his hand never left the hilt of his sword.
They continued walking, their footsteps echoing down the hallway.
---
