Mercy does not ask permission.
But the world always asks who it is for.
⸻
The question does not arrive as a voice.
It arrives as pressure with direction.
Jason feels it first while tracing the lattice at dawn. Not a surge. Not a fracture.
A tilt.
“The flow is… prioritizing,” he murmurs.
Zane looks up immediately.
“Prioritizing how?”
Jason swallows.
“It’s not asking how much mercy to give anymore,” he says quietly.
“It’s asking where.”
⸻
Across Blood Moon territory, the effects ripple outward.
Two villages suffer the same blight.
One stabilizes quickly.
The other lingers—longer than it should.
Not because help was denied.
Because help hesitated.
The covenant pauses, weighing something invisible.
Zane’s jaw tightens.
“It’s deciding.”
Jason nods.
“And it shouldn’t be a
