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"Five seconds."

"Yes."

Rhyven looks back at me. I wait. Finally— "Fine." Not permission. Acceptance. There's a difference. We both know it.

The site takes twenty-two minutes to secure. Twenty-two minutes of Rhyven pretending he isn't watching me. Twenty-two minutes of me pretending I don't notice. Twenty-two minutes of dragons refusing to settle. Vyrael stays. So does Rhyven. Eddy refuses to leave. Nobody makes him.

The blood is isolated beneath a portable containment frame. No residue detected within twelve inches. Depletion reading: Six percent. Low enough. Apparently. Professor Vayne kneels opposite me. "Same rules. Five seconds. Immediate withdrawal if anything changes."

"No heroics."

"Good."

I remove one glove. Behind Vayne, Rhyven stands with his arms folded. Still. Too still. I look at him once. He looks back. No words. Actions. Apparently that's what we do. I reach for Theryn's blood. Touch. Blood Echo opens.

Sky. Grass. Cold air. Eddy. Warm. Known. Bonded. The world is enormous through Theryn. Not visually.

Sensationally. Every vibration through the ground. Every wingbeat overhead. Every shift of wind. Magic everywhere. Varethia glowing beneath everything like veins of light. Alive. So alive. Then— something changes. The western trees. Theryn sees it. I try to follow. There. Between two trunks. Pale. Not a person. Not exactly. A distortion. A place where the magic behind it disappears. Theryn's body reacts before thought. Protect. Eddy. Move. Her tail strikes him backward. Run. Not a spoken word. Meaning. Urgency. Love. Then—hunger. Gods. Not Theryn's. Something else. Vast. Empty. Reaching. The magic around her bends. Not toward a creature. Toward absence itself. Theryn fights. I feel it. She digs her claws into the ground. Wings open. Magic surges through a body built to contain more power than anything human should touch. For one impossible second— she resists. And something resists back. Then the world tears sideways.

I reach for the memory. Nothing. I push. Nothing. Not darkness. Not death. Not an ending. A wall. No. A distance. Something beyond where Blood Echo can follow. Theryn is— Somewhere. I feel— Gone.

The Echo throws me out. Hard. I gasp. Hands catch my shoulders. Vayne. Not Rhyven this time. Good. Probably. "What happened?" I can't answer. My heart pounds. I look toward Eddy. He's standing now. Rhyven beside him. Everyone waiting. "I couldn't follow her." Eddy's face empties.

Professor Vayne asks, "Because she died?"

"No." The answer comes immediately. I know it. I felt it. "No."

Eddy takes one step toward me. "You're sure?"

I look at him. "I don't know where she is." His face falls. "But the memory didn't end."

Silence. Rhyven's eyes sharpen. "What does that mean?"

I struggle to explain. "Death has an ending. I've felt it before. The Echo stops because there's nothing else." I look toward the blood. "This didn't stop. It..."

Gods. "Moved beyond me."

Eddy's knees almost buckle. Rhyven catches his arm. "She's alive?" He asks. Not me. The universe. Anyone.

I force myself to be careful. Nyra would. "I don't know." His hope fractures. I continue quickly. "But I didn't feel her die." Eddy closes his eyes. That's enough. For tonight. Maybe.

Professor Vayne looks toward the pale ground. "And before?"

"I saw something." Every head turns.

Rhyven steps closer. "What."

"The trees. Pale."

"A figure?"

"No." I shake my head. "More like..." The image returns. Magic disappearing behind something. "A hole."

Professor Vayne frowns. "In the ward?"

"No. In magic." Silence. "And it was hungry."

The words leave before I can soften them. Nobody moves. Cassian's theory. Feeds. Now I felt it.