The first real crack didn't announce itself.
No alarm. No loud crash of power. No signal.
Just a tremor—small, almost imperceptible—but enough to shift the balance between them.
He felt it first.
A fraction of energy he could no longer hold perfectly. A twitch in his control. A micro-release that was involuntary.
She felt it immediately.
A pulse slammed into her chest—not fully destructive, but heavy , pressing on her lungs, her ribs, her heartbeat. Every breath came with subtle resistance, like invisible bands tightening.
She staggered slightly, catching herself on the edge of the wall.
His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. A flash of frustration crossed his features—quickly partitioned, hidden.
"I… have it under control," he muttered, voice tight.
"You don't," she whispered.
Her voice trembled—not in fear, but in raw awareness.
The bond fluttered irregularly; every misalignment, every micro-slip, hit her chest like a hammer.
The system nudged again. Subtle, invisible, but precise:
Gravity shifted fractionally
Temperature dipped and rose unpredictably
Air thickened in pockets around them
It was testing him. Testing the cage. Testing the limits of his control.
He staggered just slightly, almost imperceptibly, but enough for her to feel the strain intensify.
Another pulse hit, stronger this time.
Her vision blurred. Her heartbeat spiked.
She pressed a hand to her chest as the inversion landed fully, heavier than before.
He hissed quietly, teeth gritted, fists curling.
Micro-control slipped again, faster this time. He corrected it—but every correction drained him more.
The system observed silently, recording, measuring, waiting for the moment of total failure.
"You're… breaking," she said softly, almost to herself, watching the tiny tremors that betrayed him.
"Not yet," he said, voice low, clipped, but the strain under it betrayed the truth.
The bond fluttered again. The micro-fissures widened.
Power he could no longer fully contain pulsed involuntarily, brushing her with the weight of his containment failing.
Her chest burned. Lungs tightened. Every pulse sent a reminder: she was carrying the inversion alone, and it was growing heavier with every faltering attempt he made to contain it.
He swallowed, fighting internally. The cage held outwardly, but inside… the first real cracks were spreading.
She understood.
When the cage failed completely, there would be no partition to soften the blow.
And the system…
was ready to watch it happen.
Her fingers curled into fists. Not in fear. Not in despair.
But in resolve.
Because when he finally slipped—when the first real loss of control came—she would survive it.
And the system would not approve failure, no matter the cost.