Savier remained frozen in the middle of the chamber, kneeling like a tragic statue. In his hand, he clutched the loose stitch—Precious Paula's last thread, as if it were a holy relic. His eyes stared into the void. Distant. Haunting. Possibly planning a country song.
Johnquis glanced at him, then back at his HUD.
No new alerts.
No more movement.
Just wreckage and ruin.
He exhaled and stepped toward the edge of the chamber, the faint glow of fractured crystal lighting the cracks around them. The Tanker stood silently beside him, posture straight, hands clenched at his sides like a soldier waiting for orders.
"Alright," Johnquis muttered. "No more surprises. No more cages. I just want to find this damn Queen's nest and finish the job."
He looked up at the towering mass of stone and muscle beside him.
"…You got any idea where she's nesting, big guy?"
The Tanker didn't answer. He just tilted his head.
Then slowly… he crouched.
