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A low rumble shuddered through the cottage, deep and grinding. The teacups rattled in their saucers. A small clay pot toppled from a shelf and shattered on the floor. The raccoon shot upright, fur puffing to twice its size, chittering in alarm.

Beau sighed—a long, weary sound that carried the weight of centuries.

“Speak of the devil.” He waved at the raccoon. “Kevin, you’re fine. It’s just a lot of pomp and hot air.”

The front door shook in its frame.

“Come in,” Beau intoned, his voice taking on the cadence of a spell. “But understand you are bound by the rules of hospitality within my home.” His gaze returned to Ivan, appearing thoughtful. “Be intentional with your words, especially invites. Never invite trouble, it needs no help finding the powerful.”

The door swung open.

Zhenjun stood on the threshold, looking ready to rage.

But I caught it. The barest flicker of something else in his expression. Relief. Worry. The same thing I’d seen in his eyes when I collapsed in the library.

He masked it fast. Annoyance sliding over his features like a familiar mask. But I’d seen it.

“You vanished from the realms. Left only the barest of threads to follow.”

“Were you worried about me?”

He glowered. “Annoyed that you’d already extinguished yourself.”

He radiated the kind of authority that made you want to apologize for existing in his vicinity. His gaze swept the room; the shattered pot, the bristling raccoon, the half-eaten sweets. It landed on me with profound irritation. “That,” he pointed at me as he spoke to Beau, “belongs to me, Witch.”

“I’m not a thing,” I grumbled at him. “Corporeal or not.”

Zhenjun regarded me with mild annoyance tinged with something almost like curiosity. Behind him, the door swung shut on its own. The cottage groaned once, then fell silent and subdued. “You should not be upright,” he said, his gaze sweeping over me. “Let alone arguing. You were barely a thread when I left you.”

“Beau’s cottage is... restorative.”

“Clearly.” His tone was flat, but I caught the undercurrent. He was cataloguing me. Checking for cracks. Making sure I wasn’t about to dissolve in front of him again.

I waved at Ivan. “My brother was missing. I had to make sure he was safe.”

“You have work to do.”

I offered another crumb to the mote. It brightened a little, gathering the tiny pieces like a mini hoard rather than trying to eat them.

About that.” I met his gaze. “The whole ‘find my body and be rewarded with a job working for you’ thing?” I paused. “I decline.”

“What?”

“I’ll find my body. But I have no intention of working for you.” I got to my feet, ignoring the way my legs trembled. “I almost unraveled today. Called zombies from the ground to help stitch together reality.” I stepped closer, jabbing a finger at his chest. “And while I appreciate your help, I can’t help but feel like we’re both floundering to see the bigger picture.”

Zhenjun’s jaw tightened. “I cannot⁠—”

“You can’t what? Save me? I know.” I laughed, bitter and sharp. “But you’ve been doing this a lot longer than me. So here’s my offer—we work together. You teach me what you know. I use it to get my body back. And we figure out a real solution. Together. Or you can keep threatening to unmake me, and we both lose.”

Was I special? Maybe. But more importantly—Zhenjun needed me.

That meant he had a choice, help or hinder. And currently, he was picking the latter.

“I’m not scared. I’m already dead. I made my decision when I wove myself around the people I love to protect them. The real choice is yours. Do you want the help, or do you want it all to explode? Because right now, you’re setting things on fire. And I’m not volunteering to be the match. My brother needs me, I’m gonna be there. Angel needs me, I’m going to run to him. They are priority until there is nothing left of me. The weave? Magic, life for the entire universe? That’s all secondary. You get that, right? Without them there is no reason for me to care about the rest of eternity.”

Zhenjun’s jaw tightened. He wouldn’t unmake me; we both knew it. He’d chosen me. Bound me to his service. The Marshal didn’t get to change his mind just because I was inconvenient.

Not if he really wanted help.