The silence after the mirror hall felt wrong.
Richard's small party crept down a narrowing passage.
Trevor muttered under his breath, "Where d'you reckon Adrian's mob got to?"
"Hopefully, nowhere fatal," Richard replied, voice low. "Eyes front, Trev."
He felt it before he heard or saw a thing: a pressure rolling down the tunnel, thick as night tide. The lights dimmed to pin‑pricks. Cold seeped straight through bone.
Nadia swayed beside him. "Richard… my head—"
She collapsed without another word.
Oren tried to catch her, failed, slumped against the wall and slid to the floor in a boneless heap. Trevor managed half a curse before he, too, toppled. Even Anne, the steadiest of them, sagged forward as though a string had been cut.
Only James fought it, teeth bared, legs trembling.
Richard's heart thumped once, but his S‑Rank resilience kicked in.
