He had been flawless—or at least, that's what he had told himself.
But even the most precise cage has limits.
The first micro-slip had been tiny, almost laughably insignificant.
The second, a flicker he could mask and swallow.
Now… the cracks widened.
A twitch in his shoulder.
A hitch in his breath.
Fingers curling involuntarily, then straightening, corrected in microseconds.
Each correction carried weight. Every micro-failure was landing somewhere—on her.
She felt it in her chest before she saw it.
The bond fluttered like dark water disturbed.
The inversion pressed with force, like iron bands tightening around her ribs, making every heartbeat heavier.
Her stomach clenched. Lungs burned. Hands flexed involuntarily, nails digging into her palms.
Her heart hammered, racing with every suppressed pulse he sent.
He exhaled sharply. Jaw tight. Beads of sweat traced the lines of his temple.
"You're… straining yourself again," she said softly. Observation, not accusation.
"I'm fine," he said. Controlled. Too controlled.
She could feel the tremor beneath the surface, subtle but undeniable.
The system leaned in. Not with voice. Not with threat. Only environmental nudges:
Air thickening at corners
Temperature micro-fluctuations
Light bending, almost imperceptibly
All calibrated to test the limits of the anomaly.
Another pulse flickered through the bond.
She staggered, bracing herself.
The inversion hit her fully, sharper now. Every micro-slip was delivered like iron bands around her chest, each one heavier than the last.
"You're… losing control," she whispered, voice trembling slightly.
"Not yet," he replied, jaw tight, eyes storming beneath a calm mask.
But she could feel it.
Small, insidious, increasingly frequent micro-releases of power he could no longer fully contain.
She stepped closer, letting controlled anger flare just enough to probe the partitions he had built.
He stiffened. Micro-error. Another tremor through the bond.
His muscles coiled and released, every micro-failure ricocheting inside the cage.
She felt each one, a dull hammering at her chest that made her ribs ache.
Her lungs seemed to shrink with each pulse, heartbeat racing like it wanted to escape her body.
A bead of sweat trickled down her temple as she pressed a hand to her chest.
The bond fluttered again. Not fully uncontrolled—but enough. Enough to make the weight of the inversion undeniable.
He exhaled, masking it instantly, but she could see the micro-strain etched in every line of his body: hands twitching, shoulders stiffening, jaw muscles clenching.
The system noted it.
ANOMALY STRESS: INCREASING.
POTENTIAL FAILURE POINT: ACCELERATING.
He was balancing on a razor's edge.
And she… bore the inversion alone.
Every pulse. Every slip. Every crack.
Every moment etched into her chest like iron bands tightening.
She swallowed. Let the weight settle, burning in her lungs.
Determination flared, sharp and unyielding.
Because when he finally faltered…
She would have to survive it.
And the first real loss of control was approaching faster than either of them could predict.