The instant Arianne was secure in his arms, Michael turned without hesitation. Spartan followed, the dark elf's limp form slung effortlessly over one armored shoulder.
They did not meet any resistance.
Not a guard. Not a staff member. Not a single flicker of movement.
Every living soul in the building was still deep in the illusion's grasp.
And Michael had no interest in waiting to see if that would change.
He crossed the threshold, boots striking the polished stone of the corridor, and without slowing broke into a run.
Step after step, the halls blurred around him, shadows and lamplight smearing into streaks of dim color.
At the main doors, he didn't even pause to open them properly. He simply shifted his weight, braced Arianne tighter, and kicked the great panels wide with a thunderous crash.
Cold night air slammed into his face.
