The corridor narrowed without warning.
Not physically—Calyx would have noticed that—but in the way sound behaved. Footsteps dulled. The air thickened, as if the space had decided to remember itself more closely.
He slowed.
Sera noticed immediately. She always did. Not because he changed pace, but because something in him went slightly out of sync—like a note held half a beat too long.
“This section wasn’t on the map,” she said.
Calyx glanced at the wall. The surface was seamless, matte gray, threaded with faint calibration lines that pulsed once every few seconds. Not lights. More like… breathing.
“It was,” he replied. “Just not for us.”
Sera didn’t ask what he meant. She stepped closer instead, her shoulder brushing his arm. Not an accident. A grounding gesture. Human. Intentional.
