The three walked away from the ruined chamber, the acrid scent of spent mana still lingering in the air.
Fern spoke first, her voice low and measured.
"We were separated from our third member. My master." She glanced at the mage before dropping her eyes back to the floor. "She wandered off into a deeper passage. Then the trap triggered."
Percia kept walking. She could hear the unspoken request underneath the words — patient, waiting. She hoped the girl left it there.
She sighed instead.
"The two of you need to stop causing so much trouble." She glanced back slightly. "This dungeon is old. It wasn't built to absorb brute force — the structure alone is past its tolerance. Please try not to bring the ceiling down on us."
Stark rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish despite the drying blood on his cheek. "We didn't mean to—"
Percia lifted a hand, cutting him off without heat.
Her fingers brushed the air above Stark's torn shoulder; pale light bloomed. Torn muscle knit, fractured bone steadied, the worst of the bleeding staunched in moments. Stark blinked, startled, flexing the arm that had been trembling minutes earlier.
Fern watched, wide-eyed, as Percia turned to her next. A thin ribbon of mana flowed from Percia's palm. The shake in Fern's hand disappeared as her mana was restored.
"You..." Fern flexed her fingers around her staff, testing the sudden fullness in her core. "This doesn't feel like holy magic... what did you do?"
"It's an old spell." Percia turned away, "Try not to waste it."
She moved toward a shadowed corridor — one she had mapped weeks earlier. "The exit isn't far. Come."
A hand caught her sleeve.
Percia went still.
She had been afraid of this.
Fern's grip was light, fingers barely curled into the fabric. She wasn't looking at Percia — her eyes were fixed somewhere else, jaw set with the quiet stubbornness of someone asking for something they don't know how to ask for.
"Please." Her voice came out smaller than she probably meant it to. "Help us find her. My master. I can't feel her through the walls — something in this dungeon is blocking it. But I think you could."
Stark shifted behind her, clearly torn between backing Fern up and not wanting to impose further. His mouth opened, then closed again. He settled for looking at Percia stubbornly.
Percia looked at Fern's hand on her sleeve.
"I have no interest in interfering," she said. "Your master is looking for you as much as you're looking for her. Dungeons like this have a way of resolving themselves."
Neither of them moved.
Percia shifted her weight uncomfortably. Perhaps it would be easier to get it over with.
"Fine." The word came out shorter than she intended. She couldn't quite suppress the huff that followed when both of them visibly brightened. "I will help you find her. Once she is found, all three of you leave immediately. No arguments."
Fern's fingers loosened — but didn't fully release. She gave one small nod, barely perceptible.
Stark exhaled, shoulders dropping. "Thank you. Really."
Percia didn't acknowledge it. She disentangled her sleeve from Fern's grip and started walking.
"Try to step where I step," she said, without turning. "Some of the pressure plates still have teeth."