I found him in his study, surrounded by the usual chaos of his research. Books stacked haphazardly, loose pages covered in his cramped handwriting, three pairs of spectacles scattered across the desk because he could never remember where he'd set the last pair.
He looked up when I entered, took one look at my face, and immediately set down his pen.
"Sir? What's wrong?"
"Charlie," I said, my voice more strained than I'd intended. "Something's wrong with Charlie."
Paz was on his feet instantly. "What happened?"
"A surge. The power inside her, it flared, burned. She was in pain, Paz. Real pain." I ran a hand through my hair, a gesture of agitation I rarely allowed myself. "The bond was stable last night. Complete. This shouldn't be happening."
"A power surge," Paz repeated, his expression shifting to concern. "How severe?"
"Severe enough that she lost consciousness. The patterns on her skin, they're still pulsing too rapidly." I moved to the desk, scanning the texts scattered there as if they might spontaneously offer answers. "I need to understand what's happening. There must be something in your research..."
"Yes, of course." Paz was already moving, pulling books from shelves with the surety of someone who knew exactly where everything was despite the apparent chaos. "Soul bonds, rapid integration, power transfers without ritual preparation..."
He dumped an armload of ancient texts on his desk, and I immediately began flipping through the top one. My commandof ancient Demonic was rusty but functional, and desperation made me read faster.
"Here," I said, finding a passage. "Bonds formed without proper ritual grounding. What does it say?"
Paz leaned over, adjusting his spectacles. "It's somewhat archaic phrasing, but... 'when essence merges without preparation, the power may rebel against its vessel.'" He looked up at me, worry clear in his eyes. "Sir, this is not good."
"Let me read it."
We worked in tense silence, both of us flipping through pages, scanning for anything relevant. Most of the texts dealt with carefully orchestrated ritual transfers, nothing like what had happened between Charlie and me.
"This one," Paz said suddenly, pulling forward a particularly ancient volume. "It discusses accelerated bonds. Listen: 'The mortal form, unprepared, cannot contain the essence burning within. The power consumes, hotter and faster, until...'" He trailed off.
"Until what?" I demanded.
"It doesn't complete the thought," Paz admitted. "But the implication seems clear. The power could... consume her."
No. Absolutely not.
"There must be a solution," I said, pulling another text toward me. "A reversal, a containment, something."
"I'll look," Paz said, already reaching for more books.
We searched desperately, discarding texts that offered no help, marking passages that seemed relevant but incomplete. Themorning light strengthened through the windows, and my anxiety grew with it.
How long did we have? Hours? Days?
"Sir," Paz said carefully, his finger on a page. "There's something here about voluntary dissipation."
I moved to his side immediately. "What is it?"
He read slowly, translating the archaic Demonic as he went: "'When the bond threatens to consume, the demon may choose sacrifice. Essence freely given may cool the burning, stabilize that which rebels. But know this: what is given cannot be reclaimed. The demon shall be diminished, power lost to the void, never to return.'"
I stared at the text, reading it myself to be certain. There it was, a solution.
"I can do this," I said.
"No," Paz said. "You will lose your power..." He hesitated. "It would be significant. Perhaps half, perhaps more."
Half my power. Maybe more. Gone forever. I didn't care.
"I'll perform the ritual," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil in my chest.
