"Starmap," I said absently.
Ashley blinked. "Starmap."
"It's what the bond markings are called," I explained automatically, brain scrambling for anything structured. "The Aelyth bond creates it. The bond—" I swallowed. "It's supposed to stabilize him. And me."
Ashley's brow furrowed. "Supposed to?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. Because the cold air in my mind hadn't stopped. It had intensified; threads of someone else's perception slid through the cracks in the bond. They weren't Dravok's thoughts. Not entirely. Something… filtered. Distorted. Like a voice being forced through a narrow pipe. —wrong echoes wrong shapes?—
—they tried to force it——it watched, learned, waited?—
My hands moved without permission. I yanked my palmtop from my pocket and activated it so fast my fingers shook. Data spilled across the screen, personal logs, abyss readings, Dravok's earlier overlays, anything I'd saved since the storm. I pulled up the fragments I'd recorded from Nythor's ramblings, the half-mad map sequences that looked like nonsense until you stared too long.
Ashley leaned over my shoulder. "Wow," she murmured. "Can you make sense out of that?"
"I—" My breath hitched. "I can."
That realization struck like ice water. I could. Because my brain wasn't translating it as language anymore. It was translating it aspressure. Ashley pointed at a section of the screen, a spiral of star coordinates intersecting with something that looked like a collapsed waveform. "That," she said. "What is that?"
My eyes tracked where she pointed. The spiral wasn't random. It wasn't just a map of Cronack. It was a path. A path straight to Cronack. A descent.
It was a map ofintent. My heart began to pound. No, no, no?—
I zoomed in. Cross-referenced the coordinates with the ship's current telemetry. The location Dravok had entered. The caverns beneath the Cryon ruins. The containment field signature. My stomach dropped. The pattern wasn't showing where Nythorwas. It was showing where the pressure waspointing. Where it wanted a stronger mind to go.
Another fragment surfaced through the bond, clearer now, like a warning screamed from far away: —not me, not voice, not speaker—it leans through me—you are brighter, stronger?—
"Oh no," I whispered again.
Ashley stiffened. "Nadine?"
I didn't look up. I couldn't. I was already pulling older notes, Pandraxian reports, Cryon experimentation archives, and Ceceaux Seris' scribbled observations. I'd thought those were separate threads. They weren't. They were converging into a single, horrifying answer.
Heat becomes pressure.
Pressure becomes behavior.
Behavior becomes preference.
Preference becomes hunger.
I'd said those words to Dravok, but I hadn't realized they were abouthim, too.
"Oh no," I said again, louder.
Ashley touched my arm this time—firm, grounding. "What? What is it?"
My markings pulsed bright enough that even Ashley's dark uniform caught the reflection. The bond—the bond felt different. Not gone. Not severed. Not yet. But… stretching. As if something had wrapped its fingers around Dravok on the other end and was gently, patiently pulling him away from me. Fear surged so fast I tasted bile. Sadness followed, sudden and sharp, like grief arriving early to a funeral you weren't ready to attend.
"Dravok," I breathed.
Ashley's hand tightened on my arm. "Nadine. Talk to me."
I forced myself to inhale. Exhale. Focus.
"This isn't—" My voice cracked. I swallowed and tried again. "This isn't the Abyss using Nythor to communicate."
Ashley's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
