The stairwell groaned as he stepped up it. Not structurally. Like it didn't want to help.
He ignored it.
Halfway up, he passed another symbol scratched faintly into the wall. Not one of his.
Just a circle with three crossbars.
Old glyph. Not public. Pre-system.
Lucen stopped.
Ran a thumb over it.
'Who the hell was here before me?'
The wall didn't answer.
Neither did the thing still tickling the back of his mana threads like it wanted him to turn around.
He didn't.
He reached the top of the stairwell.
Light filtered down. Not real sunlight. Just a mana-washed glow from the reentry node. Dim. Sickly. But familiar.
Lucen stepped through the gate.
The drift spat him out like a bad memory.
He stumbled once, boots hitting gravel. Air rushed in. Real air. Cold city oxygen with just enough mana trace to sting the back of his throat.
He straightened.
Rolled his shoulder once.
No one was waiting.
