AISLYNElliot moves.

The sound of his boot against stone lands heavier than it should. Too loud. Too deliberate. The corridor amplifies it, stretching the noise until it presses against my ribs. My heart answers in kind, hammering so violently I’m certain it will burst through my chest and betray me.

One step.

Then another.

I don’t turn. I can’t. My body has gone rigid, caught between instinct and terror. My gaze flicks helplessly between the witch at my side, still as carved rock, cloak ...