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“It’s permanent.” Thorn’s voice carried absolute certainty. “Once a guardian bonds to a beacon, separation causes physical and psychological deterioration for both parties.”

“How long before deterioration begins?”

“Hours.” Silas returned to his terminal. “The bond forms rapidly once initiated. Rook’s shadows touched you last night. By now, separation would be uncomfortable.”

Ethan quickly ran through his own physical responses - the warmth when Rook’s shadows made contact, the calm he felt despite being surrounded by apex predators, and the way his usual anxiety around touch had vanished entirely. Although, to be fair, only Rook was touching him. “I’ve experienced no discomfort in Rook’s presence.”

“That’s because you’re together.” Julian sat back down. “That’s how it works. The bond doesn’t cause pain, but physical absence does.”

“Question eight…”

“How many questions do you have?” Rook sounded amused rather than frustrated.

“Seventeen in total.” Ethan scrolled through his list, picking out the ones he really wanted answered in case his option to ask was limited. “Should I stop?”

“No.” Rook’s laugh rumbled through his chest. “This is the most organized supernatural orientation I’ve ever witnessed. Keep going.”

Ethan read through the remaining questions - dietary requirements for beacons, whether guardians could be tracked, what happened during transformation to void form, whether the bond affected human aging, if guardians experienced human emotions, what threats specifically targeted beacons, how many guardians existed globally, whether the bond granted any abilities to humans, and what exactly “consuming corruption” entailed physiologically.

The guardians and Julian answered everything where they could - while being openly honest if they didn’t have the answers. Thorn explained guardian history and answered about guardians from a global perspective. Silas was clearly more interested and therefore had more information on the biological aspects of the beacon/guardian bond. Cillian offered anecdotal evidence where necessary about his initial bond with Julian, while Rook filled gaps about a guardian’s daily life. Julian interjected with corrections and clarifications, his eidetic memory providing specific examples.

By the time Ethan reached question seventeen - “What are the statistical odds of a guardian encountering their Beacon?” - he’d documented thirty pages of notes.

“Extremely low.” Silas pulled up data on his screen. “Approximately one in seven hundred million humans can perceive guardian essence. Of those, only one might be compatible as a beacon for any specific guardian. We’re effectively searching for a single person among billions.”

“So finding me was statistically improbable.”

“Yes.” Rook’s shadows tightened around Ethan’s wrist. “Which is why I’m not letting you go.”

In theory, that should sound positively threatening, and yet coming from Rook, it didn’t. Ethan simply saved his notes and then pocketed his phone. “Thank you. That was thorough. Although, I do have one more thing I just thought of. Question eighteen,” Ethan said, looking at Julian instead of the guardians. “How do you manage social interactions with humans who interpret honesty as rudeness?”

Julian’s expression brightened. “I don’t. I gave up trying. Cillian handles it for me now.”

“Handles it how?”

“He threatens them until they stop talking to me,” Julian said as if it was a perfectly reasonable solution. “It’s very efficient.”

Cillian’s shadows rippled with what might have been pleasure. “They learn quickly.”

Ethan turned to Rook. “Can you do that for me at the theater?”

“I already offered that.”

“I thought you were joking.”

“I never joke about threatening people.”

“All right, thank you. I’m done with question time now.”

“You’re welcome.” Julian reopened his laptop. “Now let’s get back to business.”

/~/~/~/~/

The strategy table dominated the center of the room, covered with maps, photographs, and documents. Thorn spread additional files across the surface while Silas projected surveillance footage onto the wall screens.

“Richard Ashford.” Thorn’s finger landed on a photograph of a man in his late fifties, gray hair perfectly styled, wearing an expensive suit. “City councilman for twelve years. He’s also a real estate developer, and he’s on the Garrison Theater’s board of directors.”

“He’s married, has two adult children, and is prominent in local charity events.” Silas pulled up more images. “In other words, a pillar of the community, which in itself is a perfect cover for trafficking operations. He uses city resources and political connections to move victims through legitimate business channels.”