The first time we attempted the pack-wide neural link, three wolves went into seizures and Silas vomited blood.
It was a catastrophic failure of magical bandwidth. Three hundred minds, each carrying their own fears, memories, and magical signatures, trying to funnel their consciousness through the fragile, developing neural pathways of a ten-year-old boy and a seven-year-old girl.
I had been the filter. I had taken the brunt of the feedback, my Anchor magic acting as a sieve to strain out the chaotic emotional static. But the sheer volume of raw, unfiltered consciousness had nearly shattered my physical nervous system. I had collapsed, my nose bleeding profusely, my vision swimming in a sea of red.
That was two weeks ago.
Today, we try again.
The courtyard of the Academy is silent. Th
