If someone had been standing in that hallway at that exact moment, they might've thought the old manor had begun to quake. It wasn't an earthquake. It was Elric, sprinting, practically flying, Verona secured in his arms as if the world might snatch her away if he loosened even a fraction of his grip. The corridor lamps rattled on their hooks, and one maid flattened herself into the wall with a squeak as he passed.
He didn't slow, not even when he reached the far end of the hall where the guest rooms were. He just kicked the nearest door open and swept inside.
"Put her here… my lord, here…" one maid stammered, already tugging sheets aside.
He didn't wait for instructions. Verona was lowered onto the mattress with this strange mix of gentleness and urgency, his hands lingering for one breath longer than necessary as if making sure she was truly there, not fading in his arms.
Then everything became noise.
