Agreement pulses through our connections. It's time. Phoenix Sanctuary is stable, the student council is trained, Dante is here to help protect the students who've become like family. The Council observers have seen that we're not radicalizing anyone, just teaching them to accept themselves.
We can leave. We need to leave.
Because changing one institution isn't enough. We need to change the entire Magila world.
And that starts with showing every hidden sanctuary, every rejected Magila, every person told they're broken or dangerous or wrong, that they're not alone.
"Together," Stellan murmurs sleepily.
"Always together," Jade agrees.
And wrapped in the arms of my five mates, feeling our connections pulse with shared determination, I let myself believe that we might actually succeed.
29
AMBROSE
Threedaysbeforewe'reset to leave, I'm writing contracts in my room when my five mates stage an intervention.
The work is delicate, requiring absolute concentration. Communication protocols for the sanctuary network we started during the northern journey, each one a thread connecting communities that have been isolated for decades. Green light flickers around my hands as I write, blood and will and sacrifice woven together into something that might actually make a difference.
Each contract costs something. That's the nature of Crossroads Keeper magic. Nothing is free. Nothing is without price.
The communication protocol I'm finishing now costs me the memory of my first successful contract, the pride I felt whenthe magic actually worked. It drains away as I write the final binding, the specific details becoming fuzzy and indistinct. I remember that it happened, remember being young and accomplished, but the feeling is gone. Just another price paid for the greater good.
My hands tremble as I set down the pen. They've been trembling more often lately, a side effect of the years I've lost. Twenty-three years old in body, but my hands shake like an old man's. The face I see in mirrors has new lines that weren't there a month ago. My storm-calling abilities are completely gone, that part of my djinn heritage sacrificed during the attack on Phoenix Sanctuary. And my father's face, the memory of what he looked like before he died, has become a blur I can't quite bring into focus no matter how hard I try.
Worth it. Every sacrifice necessary. My mates are alive. The students are safe and the network is growing.
I reach for another blank contract, already calculating what the next protocol will cost, when the door opens without warning.
All five of them file in. Skye first, his power already filling the room with pink authority. Stellan behind him, fire flickering with barely contained emotion. Jade in full demon form, tail lashing with agitation. Rumi with his golden wings partially manifested, divine balance reaching toward me like a diagnostic spell. And Harlow, phasing solid in a way that blocks the door completely.
They don't announce their purpose. Don't warn me. One minute I'm alone with my contracts and my sacrifices, the next I'm surrounded by the five people I love most in the world, all of them wearing expressions of determined concern.
"We need to talk," Skye says, his Praestes voice brooking no argument. It's not a request. It's a command backed by Mother Nature's authority.
"About what?" I ask, though I already know. I've been expecting this conversation since I aged ten years in a single night during the first attack. Since my hands started shaking. Since Jade pointed out that I look older than I should with fear in his voice instead of teasing.
"About how you're killing yourself," Stellan says bluntly. He moves to stand directly in front of my desk, his fire agitated with protective fury. "About how you keep sacrificing pieces of yourself for the rest of us and expecting us not to notice."
"We notice," Jade adds, his demon voice rough. He prowls the perimeter of my room like a predator assessing threats, but the threat he's worried about is me. "We've been noticing for weeks. The aging. The trembling. The way you flinch sometimes like you're losing something we can't see."
Their collective worry crashes against my awareness. They've been watching me deteriorate. Watching me lose years and abilities and memories. And they're done pretending not to notice, done respecting my privacy while I slowly destroy myself.
"Every contract has a price," I say, the old defense falling automatically from my lips. The words my mother taught me before she died, before her own contracts consumed everything she had to give. "That's how Crossroads Keeper magic works. You can't create something from nothing. The universe demands balance."
"But the prices don't have to come entirely from you." Rumi moves closer, his power already reaching out to examine my contracts with golden light. He reads the threads I've woven, seeing the costs embedded in each one. His expression grows increasingly troubled. "Mother Nature, Ambrose. These contracts, the ones protecting the sanctuary, the communication network, they're all anchored to you. Every single cost comes from your life force alone."
"Who else would pay them?" The question comes out sharper than I intend. "You? Stellan? Should I ask Jade to give up his hunger, or Harlow to sacrifice more of his connection to life? These are my contracts. My responsibility."
"Bullshit." Jade stops pacing, planting himself directly in my line of sight. His purple eyes are blazing with an emotion I can't quite name. "You could share the costs. Spread them across all six of us instead of bearing everything alone. I've been doing research, talking to other essence users. Contract magic doesn't have to work the way you're using it."
The suggestion stops me cold. "You've been researching my magic?"
"Someone had to, since you won't talk about it." Jade's tail lashes once, hard. "You've been hiding how bad it's gotten. Pretending you're fine while you age years overnight. Did you think we wouldn't notice that you look ten years older than you did a month ago? Did you think we'd just accept watching you die slowly?"
"I'm not dying," I protest, but even I can hear how weak the argument sounds.
