—Natasha's POV—
The roar from the Wolf’s Mouth was a living entity now, a great, churning beast of sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the mountain. It was a constant, maddening thunder that offered no rhythm, no pattern—only the promise of imminent violence. Then, a miracle.
A sliver of polished silver, ghostly and ethereal in the weak, phosphorescent glow bleeding from the tunnel's mouth, seemed to shear itself away from the consuming darkness behind it. It was Enzo. Against all odds, through a superhuman feat of memory, nerve, and technical perfection, he had conquered the abyss.
His front wheel, a spinning disc of light, broke the plane between darkness and night, his machine surging forward as if born anew from the stone womb.
The sight was so beautiful, so triump
