Before I can ask what he means, his voice lowers slightly.
“I want you to remember the alley.”
My stomach tightens immediately.
“I would prefer not to.”
“I am aware.”
“That should be the end of the conversation.”
“It is the beginning.”
I glare at him.
“You enjoy this far too much.”
“I enjoy progress.”
He steps closer.
“Remember it.”
The alley rises in my mind despite my resistance. The narrow walls. Garruk’s hand on my wrist. The suffocating certainty that no one would help me.
Fear stirs instantly. The bond reacts. Heat rises beneath my skin, sharp and volatile.
“There it is,” Threxian murmurs.
“Breathe,” he continues calmly, guiding my inhale with the steady cadence I have come to recognize.
The heat gathers at my fingertips. I look down in alarm as faint red light curls between my fingers like the first spark of a flame preparing to ignite.
“It’s happening.”
“Yes.”
His voice remains measured.
“But it has not ignited.”
I force myself to inhale slowly. The heat trembles.
“Again,” he says quietly.
Another breath. The fire fades slightly. For a moment the heat continues to hover uncertainly around my fingertips, not quite flame but no longer harmless warmth either. It pulses faintly with every beat of my heart, the glow shifting between crimson and gold as if the bond itself cannot decide whether to ignite or retreat.
I hold my breath without meaning to.
“Careful,” Threxian murmurs.
My gaze snaps up to his.
“You told me to breathe.”
“And you stopped.”
His expression remains calm, though there is a hint of amusement in his eyes that suggests he has seen this reaction before.
