The wind dies.
Not fades.
Dies.
The ridge goes unnaturally still, as if the world itself is holding its breath.
Lilith stands ten paces away, moonlight turning her white hair almost translucent. Kade stands at my side—not as Alpha, not in command posture, but as blood.
Not dominance.
Alignment.
“You asked for a demonstration,” I say quietly.
“Yes.”
“No ritual.”
“No ritual.”
“No Covenant.”
“No Covenant.”
“And no harvesting,” I add.
Her eyes flash once.
“Agreed.”
The air tightens.
Morgan and Thorne remain fifty yards back, out of the resonance field but close enough to intervene if necessary. Kieran holds perimeter watch, tense but steady.
This isn’t a duel.
It’s a thesis defense.
Lilith believes convergence must burn.
I believe it must balance.
“Begin,” she says softly
