"Olivier has sent for you. But you dare to refuse for your measly piece of work?"
The ether threads constricted, sharp and cold, pressing against Gabriel's ribs until each breath burned. His knees trembled against the marble, vision swimming, but the steady throb of Damian's mark pulsed like a heartbeat that didn't belong to this world.
Gabriel's fingers splayed against the floor, and through the haze of pain he felt the familiar, humming pull of his own ether stirring deep inside his chest. It was sluggish at first, like fire smothered by ash, but then it surged, responding to the rhythm he'd carved into himself long before Olivier ever tried to write his future.
The shard quivered as his ether flared, raw and sharp, cutting through the artificial threads binding him. He gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing, and pushed back, first with his will, then with the power that had always been his.
