The vibe among the three of them had turned toxic.
Asher stayed out on the edge of the light, sending jagged spikes of suppressed terror through the bond like shards of glass. Damaris watched him with the cold, unblinking eyes of a scientist waiting for a lab rat to twitch. Emin, meanwhile, was just a wall. A thick, heavy presence of territorial aggression.
Ravenna leaned against a crumbling wall, trying to find her feet. She was stuck in the middle of a three-way standoff, and her nerves were frayed to the bone.
Emin moved first. He didn't stomp. He walked slow, deliberate, closing the distance between him and the Rogue.
"We need speed, Rogue," Emin said. His voice was a low, steady rumble. "Your fear is a beacon. We can't afford to be a lighthouse in a storm."
"Then stay out of my head, Alpha," Asher spat. He didn't look up from his knives. "Your Warlock thinks he can dissect my thoughts. That's why I left your 'civilized' world behind. Too many eyes."
Emin scowled. But he didn't bark. He stopped a foot away and just looked at him. For a second, the Alpha's mask slipped. He wasn't seeing a traitor. He was seeing a mirror.
"You ran from betrayal," Emin said quietly. "I ran from the shame of being seen as weak. We're just two different brands of the same mess, Asher."
Asher's posture shifted. Just a fraction. The "Rogue" act lost its edge.
"I need you to lead us to the Stone," Emin continued. He took a step closer. "And I need Ravenna safe. That means you shut down the panic. I know how to mask a scent. I can mask your fear."
Emin reached out. A large, heavy hand hovered near Asher's shoulder. It wasn't an attack. It was an anchor.
"Use my weight," Emin offered. "Focus on the pressure. Let my control be the floor under your feet. It's temporary. A shield, not a leash."
Asher stared at that hand. Suspicion fought with a desperate, clawing need to stop shaking. He hated the badge. He hated the authority. But he felt the solid, iron commitment behind the offer.
"Try to own me, Alpha, and I'll take a kidney," Asher hissed.
"Fair deal," Emin replied.
He dropped his hand. Heavy. Firm. A physical grounding wire.
The shift was instant. Emin's pressure acted like a suppressor. Asher latched onto that solid weight, channeling his panic into the simple act of moving forward.
Ravenna exhaled. The static in the bond cleared. They were functional again. Barely.
They reached the edge of a chasm. A jagged tear in the earth that glowed with a sickly, residual magical light.
Alda was waiting there. She looked like she'd aged ten years in the last hour.
"This is it," she rasped, pointing into the dark. "The old Coven archives. The Stone is down there, buried under a few centuries of bad history."
She looked at Asher. Her face was a wreck of regret.
"I have to say it, Ash. I saw Nokon in Cinderport. He's with Nyzor. I thought he was dead. After the... incident."
Asher froze. Even with Emin's hand on him, he went cold. The name—Nokon—hit the bond like a gunshot.
"No," Asher said. A hollow, flat denial.
"Yes," Alda insisted. Her eyes were hard. "He was high-rank Coven. Close to the Elders. When you ran, we thought he was the only one who had your back. But his magic... he's the ghost, Ash. And he's leading the dig."
Damaris turned. His face was a mask of dawning, clinical horror.
"Nokon," the Warlock whispered. "The prodigy. The one who mastered the binding arts. He was the Coven's rising star."
He looked at Asher. The gears in his head were turning, cold and ruthless.
"If Nokon is with Nyzor, the Stone isn't just a relic. It's a cage. He wants to bind the Hybrid, and he needs intimate knowledge to do it."
Damaris stepped closer, his voice a scalpel.
"Asher, you were close to him. Was your escape... orchestrated? Did he let you go just to lead him back to the source?"
The accusation hit Asher like a physical blow. He staggered, ripping himself away from Emin's grip. His face was a map of total devastation.
The one person. The only one.
"You're lying," Asher whispered. His voice was paper-thin.
Whirrrrr.
The sound of mechanical drills sliced through the silence. Deep. Heavy. Coming from the belly of the chasm.
"Nyzor is already in the basement," Emin snarled. He didn't care about the drama; he cared about the clock. "They're at the library."
Alda pointed to a lower ledge. "Old maintenance tunnel. It's a deathtrap, but it's the only way to beat them to the door."
"Then we drop," Ravenna said.
She stepped to the edge. The betrayal didn't matter right now. Survival did. "We can settle the score when we aren't being buried alive."
Emin nodded. He looked at the Warlock. "Stabilize the entrance. Rogue, you lead. Try not to fall apart."
They started the descent. Asher was the last one over the edge. He stared into the blackness, haunted by a ghost who didn't just know his name—he knew his soul.
His shame hit the bond like lead. For a rogue, trust is a terminal illness. And it looked like Asher was finally dying from it.
They were heading into the dark. Straight toward the man who knew exactly how to break them.