Charles dashed through the clan's hallways at full speed, weaving past the few servants in his way.
The rain pounded like a relentless drum on the rooftops, and gusts of wind howled through the cracks in the windows.
Every step pushed him forward with growing urgency, as if his whole body had only one goal—to arrive in time, to not fail.
'Come on, come on, he can't be that far ahead,' Charles thought as he turned a corner.
BAM!
His shoulder slammed straight into a stone column. The impact sent him staggering backward, nearly throwing him off balance.
"Shit!" Charles hissed, gritting his teeth.
He leaned against the wall for a second, shaking his arm in pain.
"Didn't see that coming," he muttered, still panting.
But there was no time to waste. Charles straightened up quickly and kept running.
The pain faded faster than usual—unnaturally fast—but he didn't dwell on it.
He pressed on, turning through halls, climbing stairs, checking vaguely familiar corridors.
