Darkness had been Alexandra's only companion for what felt like an eternity. Her world had contracted to the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other across the endless plain of ash, Klaus's unconscious form cradled in her arms.
The horizon never seemed to change—just the same bleak expanse stretching in every direction, unmarked save for the trail of footprints she left behind. Her throat had gone raw from thirst, her muscles trembling with exhaustion, yet she pushed onward. She had no destination, no plan beyond a simple, primal directive: keep moving, keep Klaus alive.
His breathing remained shallow, pulse weak but present. The silver hair that had briefly turned midnight black during Gluttony's possession had reverted, though now streaked with ash that wouldn't fully brush away. The obsidian rune on his palm had faded to a barely visible outline, like a scar that refused to disappear completely.
