He unclicked the door, accomplishing his mission. With great effort, he swung it open, revealing the dark hallway beyond, and its flickering torches. Here again, he was forced to recover. He needed a plan. Somewhere else to go. What was the quickest route outside? There was a door and a set of stairs somewhere a little ways down the corridor, something of a lesser-known exit, not one that students often used. That would do, yes.
With his hand trailing along the side of the wall, he began to walk, each step taken as though he was sure it would be his last. He'd used up his last shred of energy back in his room, and now he ran on fuel that wasn't there.
The corridors were empty at this time of night, thankfully. It was strange that, even after dying, when nothing else should have been more important, Oliver still didn't want anyone to see him in his weakened state. The sureness of that assertion was almost as strong as the pain itself.
