The crowd grumbled in frustration, but no one stopped him. They watched as Riley staggered toward the door, his mind racing, trying to piece together the fragments of his shattered memory.
As he stepped outside, the cool night air hit him like a splash of water, clearing the haze in his head just a little. The streets were dark, lined with cobblestones that seemed to stretch on forever into the shadows. Lanterns flickered weakly, casting long, distorted shadows along the alleyways.
Riley paused, his breath visible in the cold air. His mind was a blank slate, but his body moved on instinct. His feet carried him forward, down winding streets and narrow alleys, as though he had walked this path a thousand times before.
He didn't know why or how, but something inside him knew the way. The memory was buried deep, but it was there—guiding him home.
