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I send a tendril of shadow through the keyhole, twist, and the lock gives way. The door swings inward.

Inside, the air smells of dust and old wood. Shelves line the walls, stacked with buckets, cloths, and other cleaning supplies. Nothing important.

Perfect.

I usher her inside, and close the door behind us. In the dimness, her eyes glow like starlight. Beautiful, but dangerous.

“I can’t make it stop. Everything I try makes it worse.” Her voice breaks.

“The techniques I taught you are for prevention,” I remind her. “Not for once it’s already taken hold.”

Her laugh is sharp, unhappy. “Great. So much for being useful.” She fumbles in her pocket. “What about that vial?—”

I catch her wrist. “Not here.”

Her pulse flutters beneath my fingers like a trapped butterfly.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” She looks up at me, wild and desperate. “I can’t just walk around with glowing eyes!”

“Focus on me.”

I take her hands in mine, palm against palm. The second our skin connects, the shadows inside me surge forward like they've found something they've been seeking.

The energy hums between us, vibrating along unseen lines, but a steady resonance that should not exist.

Her breath catches. "What are you doing?" Her voice wavers between fear and wonder.

"Redirecting." I weave tendrils of shadow between our fingers, coaxing the excess silver out, siphoning it away without consuming it. The shadows and the light don’t fight. They move together, each tempering the other. Her power folds into mine, accepting the guidance without resistance.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” she whispers.

“Neither do I.”

But I can feel it … her power reaching for mine, my shadows catching her light, tempering it. The silver seeps from her skin, drawn toward our joined hands before dispersing into the air.

Her fingers tighten around mine. “That’s … helping.”

“Your power responds to mine. They’re complimentary, somehow.”

“It didn’t start at Stonehaven, did it? It started in the tower.”

“Yes.”

The last wisps of silver fade from her skin. Her eyes still shimmer, but the danger has ebbed, buried deep enough that only those who know it’s there would notice.

“Better.” I study her, ignoring the pull that tightens through our hands. “We need to move before there’s another incident.”

I should let go. The immediate danger has passed. The prudent action would be to release her, step away, erase the evidence of what just occurred. Then check that the hallway is clear, and return to our rooms …separately.

But I don’t move.

Neither does she.

Something between us shifts again. It isn’t the overwhelming collapse of barriers that happened in Stonehaven when she touched my familiar, but a current, a steady, gathering pressure beneath the surface. A hum of awareness I can’t outrun.

Through our joined hands, I can feel her. Not just the chaotic swirl of her emotions, but fear of discovery, frustration at her lack of control, and determination battling with the longing for the life that’s slipping further from reach.

But beneath it all, there’s something else entirely.