Xavier's bare feet made no sound against the volcanic stone as he slipped through corridors that should have been impossible to navigate undetected. The temple's heartbeat thrummed beneath his soles—a steady pulse of heat and power that matched the rhythm of his own blood.
Two guards stood at the intersection ahead, their attention focused down the main hallway where Naomi's engineered commotion echoed from the records chamber. Xavier pressed himself against the wall's carved reliefs, feeling ancient symbols bite into his shoulder blades. The King's Gaze whispered tactical assessments in his mind but he pushed the alien voice aside.
Trust your instincts, he told himself. You survived twenty years without cosmic commentary.
