---
"Yes," she said. "One channel. One… favorite. One anchor. After that, I still have teeth and claws. I still have small licks. I can still help many. But the big river will only ever flow truly for one."
He looked at his healed hand again, the skin smooth and unblemished. The idea of that much power, that much choice, condensed into something as simple as a touch, made his stomach twist.
"You cannot… change it later," he asked. "If you chose wrong."
"Not without breaking myself in ways neither of us would enjoy," she said. "So do not choose wrong."
Simple, then. No pressure at all.
His thoughts must have leaked, because she added, gentler, "I do not have to use it soon. It sits. It waits. It is not like your Apex. It does not itch."
"Of course it itches," he said. "Everything powerful itches. You just do not know the word yet."
He felt the echo of her silent laugh in his chest.
