Gate Spur emptied before the hall learned morning had arrived.
No one called it dawn under that old stone. There was no sky, only colder air pushing down the stair cracks and a faint grayness where the outer seams had failed. The Black Bulls moved through it with packs, stretchers, wrapped weapons, and the grief roll tied across the scarred Bull's chest.
Ty carried a coil of wire because Milo had handed it to him with a wounded expression and disappeared before refusal found words.
Blue slept under his collar again, tucked close against his throat.
JJ walked two paces behind him with one hand near her sword and the other near the small satchel where she had hidden medical cloth. She had said nothing about the storage room. Ty had said nothing either. Silence worked better when both people understood where the line had been.
Osalf led them toward a maintenance gate sunk behind a row of cracked storage tanks.
The gate looked like it had teeth waiting in the frame.
