The night did not leave Fior when he returned.
It followed him beneath the earth, clinging to his thoughts as stubbornly as the faint ache in his body. The tunnels stretched ahead in their familiar winding paths, lit by the dim glow of crystals and moss, yet something about them felt altered now—not in form, but in meaning. The same stone walls, the same air thick with damp earth and resin, the same quiet hum of dead mana flowing through the roots… and yet it no longer felt like refuge.
It felt like confinement.
Fior walked without direction at first, his steps carrying him deeper into the quieter sections of the colony where fewer eyes lingered. The voices of others faded behind him, replaced by the low, constant silence of the underground. It should have calmed him. It always had.
Tonight, it did not.
