Chapter 66

• The corridor stretches long and silent ahead of us, the walls thick with history, their rough, aged bricks absorbing the flickering torchlight. Lucas halts mid-step, his head tilting slightly as his fingers brush over the stone beside him. His touch is almost reverent, a stark contrast to the usual authority he exudes.
• “I lived here for a summer when I was younger,” he murmurs.
• His voice is quiet, contemplative, almost as though he’s speaking to himself rather than me. Still, I hum in acknowledgment, my attention stolen by the ceiling above us.