The Vagrant steps out of The Seven’s sanctum and into empty space. He doesn’t hesitate, gliding down towards the steps, sword out, Vesper held tight. The sword’s silvered wings spread wide, catching invisible currents. He lands, takes the stairs at a more stately pace. Down he goes, leaving the Sanctum and The Seven behind. Tension falls away like an old skin. Shoulders relax, straighten. He lifts his gaze from the floor, looks around as he returns to the Shining City. An eye does the same, mirroring exactly.
