The next corridor looked harmless. Smooth stone, soft lights set into the ceiling, and a faint, clean breeze, as if the building were breathing through its nose. That alone made me suspicious. A tower that has tried to kill you in six different fonts doesn't suddenly turn polite for the sake of your health.
'I'd like that embroidered on a pillow,' Valeria said, bright and sharp in my hand.
"Don't jinx it," I muttered.
'Too late. This is a trap wearing nice shoes.'
Erebus touched the pact-line from wherever his bone hall lived. His voice came through like a quiet, final bell. 'Proceed.'
We walked. For twenty paces, the ceiling behaved itself. The letters carved along the walls pretended to be purely decorative. The air smelled of stone and old paper. My boots made a steady, countable sound on the floor. I moved like a man who trusts his footing but keeps all the receipts.
Then, a soft tug at my hip.
