Silver was not safety. It was a brighter target painted over a broken core.
Silver did not mean safe. Silver meant the knife had learned my address.
We returned to the lower hall badly.
Aiden landed on one knee and pretended that was intentional. Liora hit the floor, rolled, came up with her sword out, and looked offended that gravity had participated. Elara collapsed into Seraphina's barrier and immediately tried to apologize to the roots for landing on them. Nyx appeared standing, because assassins were theatrical liars. Valeria stepped out of contract flame with one hair out of place and the expression of someone planning revenge against physics.
Ren landed on his back, lantern still clutched to his chest.
Niko fell on top of him.
Both survived through volume rather than dignity.
I landed on my feet.
For half a second, this seemed impressive.
Then both legs remembered we had a disagreement with existence, and I dropped to one knee.
