The moment it said I remember who I am, the bond reacted as though a truth forbidden by its very design had just been spoken into existence.
The space around us did not simply fracture further. It recoiled, as though something embedded deep within its structure recognized the voice that had just emerged and could not reconcile whether it was meant to contain it or submit to it.
The pressure shifted violently, no longer attempting to suppress me, but struggling to stabilize against a presence it had never been built to hold.
My breathing did not quicken, and it did not falter. Instead, it slowed, as though whatever now existed within me no longer depended on it in the same way. I was still there. But I was no longer alone.
The presence did not overpower me, and it did not erase me. It
