In the bastion city known as State X, a Penitentiary transport vehicle barrelled down a discreet road.
Inside the prisoners chamber, Caelem sat with his back against the wall and his hands locked in Gracebreakers.
He looked like a ghost of his past, handsome self. Months inside the last base had already stripped weight from his body. His shoulders were still broad, but his uniform hung looser now, and the white hair that once fell cleanly around his face had grown rough and uneven.
Muskard sat opposite him.
The red mutation around his right arm had faded to a dull stain beneath the Gracebreakers. Without access to his Cursed Spirits, he looked thinner than ever. His cheek carried an old bruise that had yellowed around the edges, and one lens of his glasses had been replaced with cheap glass.
Linzley was on the floor between them with her knees pulled to her chest.
