But then he pushed back. Hard. Not at me. At the darkness.
AtHim.The real him.
I felt it like a shockwave, raw, furious, incandescent resistance slammed into the mirror image with a ferocity that took my breath away. Not controlled. Not elegant.Personal. Get away from her.
The force of it tore through the bond, through me, through the darkness itself. The mirror image cracked, fractured like glass under too much pressure. There was a sound—not heard, but felt—awhoosh. Like a vacuum collapsing. Suddenly, the darkness was gone.
The backlash hit me all at once.
I cried out as the connection snapped back into myself, and the world tilted violently as every ounce of strength left me in a rush. My arms gave out. My forehead struck the floor as everything went black at the edges.
In the distance—far away now—I heard voices.
Alarm.
Shouting.
"Shoot him!" Xandros' voice cut through the haze, sharp with panic.
No!The word tore through my mind with everything I had left.NO. DON'T!
Someone shouted back. Someone else swore.
Ashley's voice rose above the chaos. "No! Don't shoot!"
I felt Xandros's concern, his certainty that he was about to lose control of the situation, that whatever came next would be irreversible. But no one fired. No one moved. The silence stretched, charged and trembling. As consciousness threatened to slip away, I felt the bond, no longer frayed, no longer thin.
Steady.
Alive.
Binding Dravok and me irrevocably.
The power of the backlash left me empty. I stayed on my knees, palms braced against the floor, gasping for air like I'd surfaced from deep water too fast. My vision swam, sweat slicked my spine, and every muscle trembled as if I'd run until my body forgot how to stop.
The room was in chaos.
Xandros was shouting, actual shouting now, sharp and furious, a stream of curses. His soldiers stood frozen in place, weapons half-raised, eyes wide with confusion and dawning fear. None of them moved. Neither did Ashley.
She stood perfectly still beside me, eyes locked on Dravok. Her breath was shallow, as if she was afraid that even blinking might break whatever fragile equilibrium had just slammed into place. It took me a moment to understand:I did this.
The thought hit harder than the psychic backlash. I hadn't meant to. I didn't even knowhow. But somehow—through panic and desperation and raw refusal—I had locked them all in place. Not frozen time, not with a power like Dravok's.
Something else.
Somethingmine.
"Oh God," I whispered hoarsely. "I don't—I don't know how to undo it."
Fear crawled up my spine. What if I couldn't? What if I'd trapped them like this—Dravok included—because I didn't know how to let go?
My gaze snapped back to him. He was still lying on the bed. Still restrained. Still terrifyingly still… except… his eyes were open. And it wasn't the black void I had seen in them last. They were the deepest amber I had ever seen. The world narrowed to that single fact.
"Dravok!" I scrambled forward, ignoring the weakness in my limbs, my hands sliding on the floor as I dragged myself to hisside. I reached him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pressing my forehead against his chest, desperate for warmth, for proof.
"Oh, Dravok," I choked. "I'm here. I'm here."
He didn't move. For one unbearable second, panic clawed up my throat, then he groaned. Low. Rough. Like the sound had been dragged up from somewhere deep and painful. Relief hit me so hard I nearly collapsed again.
