Molten gold burned beneath Ashley's skin. The dead zone she maintained was a bubble of silence paid for in agony. With every beat of her heart, the fractured Covenant pulsed, driving sickly light like a creeping infection across her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. This wasn't power. It was a disease wearing the mask of an ability.
She pressed her back against the cool volcanic stone of the chamber wall, the chill a welcome anchor in the storm of her own making. In the supernatural silence she had carved from reality, Xavier, Naomi, and Margaret huddled, their whispers swallowed by her agony. The golden fractures throbbed in rhythm with her heartbeat, each beat a small agony that she swallowed without complaint.
"Six days," Xavier said, his voice carrying that new edge she'd noticed since his encounter with the Knight. "The Masquerade is our deadline. After that, Calypso gets announced as Haverford's bride, and whatever window we have closes permanently."
