The wall came apart before Arthur understood why he was moving.
He'd thrown himself sideways on instinct, Stima flaring hot down his legs, and the whole section of stone where he'd been standing folded inward like something had stepped on it from above. Dust rolled out in a wave. He hit the floor on one shoulder and rolled up onto his feet, sword already up, eyes tracking for the thing that had almost killed him.
There was nothing to track.
No light. No heat. No shape in the air. His shadow network screamed the position at him a half-second before his eyes could have caught it anyway — a wrongness moving through the corridor, invisible, fast, gone the second it landed.
What is that. What am I even blocking.
"Arthur." Vexis's voice came sharp beside his ear. "We're outnumbered and one of us just died. Focus."
Veris. On the floor behind him. Not moving.
He didn't have time to think about that either.
