I didn't "share" the power. I infected her.
The transfer felt like forcing a mouthful of shards down Lyra’s throat. As our brows pressed together, I heard her teeth grind—a dry, calcified sound—before her jaw simply locked in a silent scream. The energy didn't flow; it clawed. It was a parasitic, oily heat that left my skin feeling like it had been licked by a furnace.
"Luna... stop... it’s eating... my eyes..." Lyra wheezed, her fingers digging into my shoulders so hard they drew blood, but I couldn't pull away.
The pre-heat wasn't a trope anymore. It was a biological hijack. My blood felt thick, churning with a fever that turned the cold air of the ruins into a mockery. My core throbbed with a jagged, rhythmic ache that made me want to scream, a hunger so misplaced and violent that I
