He ran and he ran, and he ran. He did not know how much further he could go on now. He turned one corner in the darkness, floor illuminated by irregular shafts of light from above, then turned up another flight of stairs. Then he went into a room, forced to dodge the sources of life he sensed coming his way, letting them pass before continuing onwards, moving in the opposite direction of the guards, trying to feel out where others were in relation to him as he backtracked. He coughed, his head burning. His legs ached; he couldn't feel his left arm. He was tired, so very tired.