“Deeper where?” I echoed, pulse hammering. “How far can they move you?”
Tavis’s hand stayed pressed to the unseen barrier. I could almost see the outline of his fingers shimmering in the air, like light trying to become flesh.
“I don’t know,” he said. His “voice” in my head was thin but steady. Older than ten. Older than any child should sound. “The walls change. Sometimes there’s water. Sometimes… nothing.”
Nothing. The kind of nothing that ate sound and hope whole.
Corren’s jaw clenched. “How many with you?”
“Kiva,” Tavis said. “Two others. They sleep a lot now. It’s easier when the circles move.”
My stomach twisted.
“Show me,” I said. “Not everything. Just… edges. Where you are. What you feel.”
He hesitated.
“You’re close,” he said. “If I pull too hard, it will tug you in.”
“T
