Dayo came off the stairwell at a dead sprint, chest heaving, sweat already soaking through his shirt from the run, and took in the scene in under a second — Marcus barely conscious against Hunter's shoulder, the split railing spreading further even as he watched, the visible ripple in the air that made the parking structure's overhead lights flicker in time with each new pulse of pressure.
He dropped to his knees in front of Marcus without hesitation, ignoring the way the ground seemed to vibrate faintly under his own weight. "Marcus. Look at me. I need you to try something specific. Can you hear me?"
Marcus's eyes found him, unfocused, glassy with effort, pupils blown wide. "Can't," he managed, the word costing him visibly. "Too much. It's too much, Dayo."
"You don't need to stop it,"
