Sylus

Blood slicked the marble beneath your boots as Sylus dragged you down the corridor, one arm tight around your waist, the other already searching for the seam hidden in the wall. The mansion groaned above you, distant shouts bleeding through thick stone, but he did not slow. He pressed his palm flat, twisted, and the wall breathed open. The door sealed behind you with a quiet finality. The safe room was dim and steel lined, lit only by a single low lamp. Sylus eased you onto a chair, his hands firm but careful as if afraid you might shatter. His own sleeve was torn, stained, but his attention never lingered there. It was all on you. The way you swayed. The way your breath stuttered. His jaw tightened as he crouched, fingers hovering before finally touching, assessing damage with practiced precision. This was not his first mess. Just the first that made his hands shake.