Kael moved through the darkness toward the nearest green dot.
The city did not attack him immediately.
That was the first strange thing.
In the sewers, every corrupted rat and half-made Ratman had thrown itself at the Torch of Vanitas like the blue flame was the last scrap of food in a starving world. They had ignored wounds, ignored his fists, ignored openings to bite him if the torch was anywhere near reach. The creatures aboveground were different. The red dots shifted around him, some moving along rooftops, some slipping through alleys, some pausing behind broken windows where the darkness was thick enough to hide their shapes. They watched. They followed at the edge of his light. But they did not come screaming for the torch.
Kael did not take comfort in that.
