Moving through the Park

Manus moved through the park with slow, deliberate steps, the night pressing close around him. The lamps flickered like they were afraid of the dark themselves. Cold mist curled around his boots as he followed the narrow, forgotten path. He wasn’t wandering; he was hunting for something he couldn’t name yet. Every rustle in the bushes made his shoulders tense for a heartbeat. He knew this place, knew its shadows, knew the corners where the city pretended not to look. His breath hung in the air like a warning. Then he saw it — a figure standing in the filthiest, most abandoned corner of the park. Manus stopped, eyes narrowing, pulse steadying. Whatever he had been searching for had just found him.