I followed the trail of blood smeared along the corridor floor, one dark drop after another, until it led me to the sanctum's infirmary.
From inside came a rush of frantic voices and chaotic footsteps.
"Stop the bleeding!"
"Disinfect the wound!"
"It's bad. Really bad."
Each voice that pierced through the door tightened the coils around my chest, my breath shortening as if the air itself refused to move forward.
I placed a hand on the double doors, hesitating, afraid of what lay beyond — that the sight would crush my heart into silence.
"His lips are moving. He's trying to say something."
"Stay with us, soldier."
Cutting through the clamor, a whisper drifted like a lost soul reaching up from the brink of death, and found me.
"Prin—"
My soul lurched up from the pit it had been buried in.
I didn't hesitate any longer. I pushed the doors open and strode inside.
