They did not speak for several moments after crossing the trap not just because there was nothing to say but because too much had been said without saying a word.
The passage stretched ahead of them, wider now although no less suffocating. The air was humid and stale, untouched by movement for long periods, and every step echoed just enough to remind them how exposed they still were despite being hidden.
Lorenzo moved first. His pace had changing with intention, each step measured not just for the path ahead but for the people around him. The pain in his shoulder had settled with a steady, draining ache that tugged at his focus and tested the limits of his control.
He tried to ignore it but couldn't because ignoring it entirely would be a mistake.
And Lorenzo did not make those twice.
