Tabitha’s voice snaps. “If you break it wrong, it will backfire on Rynna.”
I glance back at her. “Then tell me how to break it right, Oracle.”
She freezes at the word. Then her jaw tightens. “Pull the master line. Same as before.”
I nod. “Show me.”
Tabitha points, crisp and exact.
I kneel, press two fingers to the line, and feel it—quiet, miserable, holding the lattice taut like a lie pretending to be law.
I grip it.
Cormac lunges.
Dreven’s shadow catches him by the throat and slams him into the stone.
Voren’s frost hits Finnian’s wrist and freezes his hand open.
Dastian steps forward with a grin that is all teeth. “Hi. Remember me? I’m the consequences.”
I pull.
The master line snaps with a sound like a scream swallowed.
The net convulses. Silver threads whip, trying to rebound.
I don’t let them.
Light defines the lines. Shadow locks them in place. Death cuts the connection clean.
The lattice collapses into ash at my feet.
The hum dies.
The chamber goes still.
Cormac wheezes under Dreven’s shadow grip. “You’re destroying balance.”
I stand and look down at him. “No. I’m restoring it.”
Finnian snarls, struggling against Voren’s frost. “You can’t kill us. We are The Order?—”
“The Order is no more,” I say. I step closer, and my voice drops. “You two are done.”
Dastian’s sparks flare, hungry. Dreven’s shadows sharpen. Voren’s cold deepens.
I hold up a hand.
Not because I’m merciful.
Because I’m deliberate.
I look at Tabitha. “Oracle. Witness.”
Her eyes narrow, but she nods once. “Witnessed.”
I crouch in front of Cormac and press two fingers to his sternum, where a slayer bond would sit if he still had one worth anything.
