'I feel like my head's splitting.'
Every pulse of Eli's heart slammed against his skull like a hammer.
His arms burned where thin streams of blood still leaked from the shallow cuts, warm trails slipping down to his fingertips.
His throat was raw, scraped and bruised from Mio's chokehold, but the searing fire had dulled to a deep, throbbing ache.
Breathing was easier now—but not easy.
Each inhale rattled through his chest like broken glass.
The reprieve lasted seconds.
With a sharp snap, Mio's threads surged again, slicing forward in a storm of silver.
They hissed through the cavern air, every strand angled mercilessly at Eli.
His pulse spiked, panic clawing up his chest. But he didn't need to shout. He didn't even need to move.
Kairo was already in motion.
"Oh, come on," Eli heard him mutter under his breath—low, unimpressed, like Mio's persistence was less terrifying and more annoying.
Crimson light flared.
