Lucan left Vineyard quickly but not cleanly.
His body moved away from the settlement with the instinctive efficiency that had kept him alive since the collapse, crossing broken streets and climbing fractured walls without hesitation, but something in the rhythm of his movements had shifted. The territory outside the settlement should have felt familiar. Wind moved through hollow buildings, dry weeds scraped across asphalt, distant birds circled where carrion had been left behind. It was a landscape he understood well enough to navigate without thought. Normally the quiet of the open ruins settled his instincts rather than disturbed them.
This time the quiet did not follow him.
Lucan blinked.
Space folded.
He landed thirty meters away on the edge of a collapsed service road, boots striking cracked concrete with controlled balance. His body absorbed the impact automatically. The transition should have been exact. He had aimed for the rooftop across the street.
