The click of Mara's apartment door shutting behind him was a small, insignificant sound. He didn't linger in the building's sterile hallway.
One moment he was there, the stale air tasting of city dust and old anxieties; the next, he stood in the cool, familiar stone passage of his castle. The shift was instantaneous, a ripple in reality only he perceived.
'A few days,' Fin thought, the echo of Mara's reluctant agreement still fresh. 'Too long. But necessary.' The list was a risk for her, a certainty for him.
He pushed the image of Mara's pale face and Juna's knowing smirk from his mind. They were tools, distractions.
Sounds of combat drew him forward – the sharp ring of steel on steel, grunts of effort, the thud of feet on packed earth. He walked through the archway and into the bright sunlight of the training ground.
