Time thickened. The black glass dagger hovered over Kael’s wrist, a sliver of absolute void against the faint, green-threaded silver glow of the corrupted mark. The Oracle’s prophecy echoed in the still air, a storm that consumed all. The First Luna’s triumphant grin was a rictus of hunger. Elara could only watch, her heart a trapped bird beating against her ribs.
But the dagger did not fall.
Kael’s arm trembled with the strain of holding it back, of fighting the dual urges the compulsion to obey the hacked command, and the new, desperate imperative to sever it at its root, consequences be damned. His stormy eyes were squeezed shut, internal war raging.
The Oracle, stirring on the cold stone floor, lifted her head. Her silver eyes, clouded from the vision, found Elara. She spoke, her vo
