Avalin's voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of someone who had seen far too much.
"You went too far… again."
She stood outside the nurse's office, arms crossed, watching through the glass as the young master lay on a cot, wrapped in fresh bandages while three nurses worked with frantic precision. The smell of antiseptic mixed with the lingering metallic tang of burnt mana—a reminder that they were still inside the prison, that the battle's echo had not yet settled in the stones.
The executed criminal's corpse had already been reduced to ash. Vulcan himself had burned it after opening the gate, only once the silence inside convinced him the screams had finally ended. It was a silence that still clung to the hallways.
