The wind howled through the towering spires of Enigma's castle, its hollow wails whispering through the frozen corridors. Zagreus stood at the threshold, his breath uneven, muscles coiled like a predator who had just escaped one hunt only to step into another.
Ingrid stumbled forward, her heart hammering against her ribs, every inch of her body burning from the sudden shift from battle to eerie silence. She turned to him, her blue eyes gleaming with fury, confusion, and something else—something unspoken.
"You dragged me out of there," she hissed, her voice raw from the smoke and blood still clinging to the back of her throat. "You took me from the fight I was meant to face."
"Don't be foolish, Ingrid." Zagreus stepped closer, the space between them shrinking into something suffocating. "You were never meant to die in that room."
Ingrid's breath hitched, but she refused to show weakness. "And what if I was?"
