“This is the last time I ask nicely,” she said.
I bared my teeth.
“Then it’s the last time you ask,” I shot back.
Her eyes went very, very cold.
And as the square erupted in another wave of magic, somewhere in the depth of the shadow cord, Gideon’s knot pulledhard.
And something in the patternsnapped.
The snap wasn’t loud.
It didn’t crack like lightning or boom like thunder.
It wassoftin a quiet, decisive way, like a thread pulled too tight, and finally gave way.
But the moment it broke, the world lurched.
The shadow above uswhiplashed, recoiling so violently that the air buckled. A ripple, like a shockwave without sound, pushed outward from the breaking point.
The priestess staggered.
Only a fraction, but shedid.Her shadows faltered, their unified swell collapsing into disorganized curls like smoke caught in conflicting winds.
“Impossible,” she whispered.
The shadow cord thrashed again, writhing like a severed limb. A flare of light—dim, flickering, but unmistakablyGideon’s,twisted and burst along the snapped edge.
He was fighting.
Not a little.
Not subtly.
He was tearing through whatever hold she had left.
“Gideon,” I breathed, the name pulled from me without permission.
Keegan snarled, a sound of fury and recognition both, and lunged at another tendril trying to seize the tea shop porch. His claws tore through it like cloth.
The priestess regained her balance and snapped her fingers.
The shadows obeyed instantly, knitting into a tighter, denser mass around her. Her control reasserted, but shakier, vibrating like a plucked wire.
She lifted her gaze toward the broken cord.
“Ungrateful boy,” she spat, voice sharp enough to cut stone. “After everything I carved into you, this is how you repay me?”
The cord jerked again.
This time, a tear opened at its midpoint.
A ragged, gaping rip shimmered with an awful, bruised light. Magic spilled through it, sparking the air with a crackling static that made everyone flinch.
The tear widened, and a voice slipped through.
Barely more than a hiss, raw and strained:
