It started before Jason understood what was happening.
Not as a thought.
Not as a decision.
As pressure—deep inside his bones, like something ancient had finally decided it was done waiting.
The evening had been ordinary only moments before. The forge had cooled, the village was settling into night, and Jason had been walking the familiar path back toward the shack with soot still clinging faintly to his hands.
Then the world tilted.
Not physically.
Internally.
—
Jason stopped walking.
His breath caught hard in his chest.
“…Dakota?” he tried to think, but even the thought came out fractured.
There was no immediate answer.
And then the pain began.
—
It wasn’t sharp.
It wasn’t like injury.
It was rearrangement.
His body locked in place as heat surged through him in waves, e
