The Artificer moved like a shadow through the jagged tunnels, each step careful, deliberate. The ruins around him whispered with echoes of a world long broken — crumbling walls, shattered pipes, the distant drip of water somewhere deep below. His breath came steady, even, but his sharp eyes never stopped scanning.

Then — a flicker on the wind, something new. A scent, faint but unmistakable. Something… alive. He didn’t know what it was yet.

He paused, nose twitching as the smell grew stronger. The tight knot of tension in his chest twisted sharper.

Someone — or something — was here.

And the Artificer’s fingers itched near his mouth, where the volatile spark slept, ready.