Page 69

“Okay,” I whispered.

Bernie’s trace forked. One branch looked ancient, Infernal, scorched so deeply into Knox’s tether that even my Alicorn Sight could barely separate the Hell residue from the mark itself.

Hank snarled. “That one goes below.”

Hell. Of course. But the other branch did not.

Bernie’s brow creased. “There’s another route.”

Carrick’s voice sharpened through the shimmer. “Where?”

“Topside,” Bernie said.

The room changed around that word. Mammon had used the tether in Hell, sure. But the active system didn't rely only on Hell. There was– or had been– a Topside relay built into the chain.

“Follow the active return,” Carrick said. “Ignore the Infernal residue.”

Bernie nodded once, but the pathway began collapsing behind her trace like Magical breadcrumbs erasing themselves before anyone could collect them.

“It’s closing,” Bernie said.

I stared at the projection. Lines folded inward, vanishing into their own wake. But they were not disappearing randomly. They were folding into the negative space.

“Bernie! You’re following the line.”

“Yes…?”

“Don’t. Follow what’s missing.”

Everyone looked at me like I had just suggested solving a murder with jazz hands.

“The visible line is collapsing behind you,” I said as quickly as possible. “The empty space isn’t. That’s the actual path.”

Bernie shifted her Magic. Instead of chasing the black and red line, she traced the absence it left behind.

The projection changed. Salt air. Rust. Dark water. Old steel.

Knox’s grip crushed my hand.

“The Gulf,” he said.

He did not sound uncertain. He sounded like a man recognizing the scent of an old crime scene.

“It’s routing through the rig,” Knox said.

“Or through something built from the same infrastructure,” Carrick corrected.

Bernie recoiled as if she'd touched a hot stove. Her lavender and silver Magic snapped back so hard the projection flickered. Guy caught her before she could stumble.

The black and red path snapped shut. Every remaining trace of the negative-space trail collapsed at once, leaving nothing behind but Bernie’s fading lavender and silver Magic.

“Dammit,” she hissed. “I lost it.”

“Bernie?” His voice went sharp with fear.

She looked sick. “There’s Necromancy in the relay.”

Knox’s voice went lethally soft. “Whose?”