The ascent up the onyx staircase was a blur of torchlight, grim faces, and the low, urgent murmur of the rescue. The knights and professors formed a protective cordon, their presence a solid, professional barrier against the lingering dread of the shaft. Students were counted, injuries were assessed with swift efficiency, and the worst cases were supported or carried. The atmosphere shifted from desperate survival to managed extraction. Order, imposed from above, was reasserting itself.
I moved as part of the human current, my arm still in the steady grip of the anonymous knight. My body was on autopilot, placing one foot after another on the black steps. But my mind was trapped in that frozen moment on the ledge, in the shattering echo of déjà vu that had passed between Kaelen's winter-gray eyes and mine.
