Rel's eyes snapped to the older Rel and the distance between them had never felt so vast.
His legs wouldn't move. Not from paralysis. From recognition.
He knew what this spell was. He knew what it meant. And he knew, with a clarity that sat cold and absolute in his chest, that he couldn't reach Prime in time to stop it.
This is the end of everything I could become.
"You're not chanting," Rel said. His voice came out steady that it surprised him.
Prime's hand was still raised, black lightning coiling around his wrist like living restraints. His expression was unreadable.
"I don't need to. I've cast this spell enough times to skip the ritual."
"How many times?" Rel's throat tightened.
A pause. The black lightning intensified.
"Enough to know I shouldn't use it on you." Prime met his eyes.
"But you asked for this."
I asked for this.
The thought didn't feel like an accusation. It felt like an epitaph.
He'd wanted to see what he'd become. He'd demanded it. Provoked it.
