Already exhausted and breathless from nothing more than walking, Azriel bumped against the wall of a corridor lit by silver-flamed torches. He leaned his shoulder against the stone and tried to catch his breath.
"Ah, fuck…"
He spat blood onto the floor, then wiped his mouth with a hand already crusted in dried blood.
"She really ticked me off…"
He needed a shower.
He stank. He felt filthy. His skin crawled beneath the grime, the blood, the sweat, and whatever else clung to him.
"Fight until the bitter end?"
Azriel gave a bitter, breathless laugh.
"Saying that while having no clue… It really pisses me off, dammit…"
He had not expected Celestina's words to irritate him this badly.
Luckily, the irritation gave him something else.
Energy. Not much. But enough.
Fueled by pure spite alone, Azriel pressed his arm against the wall and pushed himself forward.
He started walking again.
Then his vision flickered.
For a moment, the corridor before him changed.
