He didn’t just take a hit. He made himself incompatible. Deliberately. A variable Faelan’s equations couldn’t process.
Around me, the pack’s movements blur into streaks of color and intent. Their shapes distort, stretching, compressing, losing definition. The circuit pulses, adjusting to compensate for the discrepancy Dane introduced.
My breath steadies.
I don’t fight the distortion anymore. Instead, I let my scar respond—not with rejection, but with recognition.
The silver light crawls up my arm, reaching for my heart. I don’t stop it.
I redirect it.
Faelan watches with detached interest as I align with his system. His expression shifts subtly when my frequency changes pitch.
He doesn’t see what’s happening beneath. How my magic isn’t surrendering. It’s searching. Finding the frequency Dane left behind. Not to follow. To invert.
My fingers stretch open.
The circuit blinks. Once, twice. A microscopic stutter. The suspended bodies around us shiver almost imperceptibly.
Faelan’s eyes narrow. He feels it; the dissonance expanding, propagating through his perfect system.
The circuit doesn’t resist me anymore.
It responds to me.
My first disruption is small. Precise. A single thread pulled from the pattern, leaving a hairline fracture in the wholeness of his design.
Faelan’s control wavers. For the first time, I see uncertainty cross his face.
Not because I’m fighting him.
Because I’m not.
I shift into the circuit’s frequency, not resisting its pull but letting it envelop me. The silver light from my mark crawls up my arm, cold but familiar.
Faelan watches with clinical interest as I sync with his creation. His eyes gleam with satisfaction when my energy signature aligns with the system’s pulse.
I trace the flow patterns with mathematical precision. Each connection point, each energy current—I map them silently. The suspended bodies hang like frozen stars in this twisted constellation. I recognize the structure now. It’s built from pieces of me—fragments of memory, emotion, and instinct stolen over time.
My fingers twitch slightly. I locate the first thread and invert its direction—not cutting, not breaking, just reversing. Energy meant to flow outward now cycles back.
A hiker’s hand twitches. His eyes flicker beneath closed lids.
Faelan’s brow creases. He shifts his stance, recalibrating.
I move deeper into the pattern, tracing a second thread and a third. Each time, I don’t destroy—I redirect. The circuit begins to feed itself, consuming its own energy rather than drawing from its captives.
“What are you doing?” Faelan’s voice lacks its usual smooth confidence.
I don’t answer.
Another body shudders—a wolf this time. Her fingers uncurl from their rigid position. The memories anchor me as I continue my work.
Dane’s hand on my shoulder, steady and warm.
Rafe standing motionless at the perimeter, watching everything.
Kari’s eyes blazing as she defends territory that isn’t even hers.
