He could feel it now.
Not a twitch, not a flicker.
A persistent tremor, running through his chest, limbs, and the channels of power he had built.
Micro-control faltered constantly, no longer occasional.
Every small slip sent a pulse through the bond, landing fully on her.
She staggered slightly, lungs burning, chest tight.
Every beat of his heart, every micro-release, pressed on her like invisible iron bands.
Her fingers dug into her palms, her nails leaving crescent marks.
"You're… straining too much," she whispered. Not a plea, not an accusation. Observation. Fact.
"I'm fine," he said, voice low, clipped—but the tremor under it betrayed him.
The system pressed in.
No alarms. No voice. Just subtle, relentless pressure:
Micro-fluctuations in gravity
Temperature shifting unpredictably
Air thickening and thinning in alternating patches
Every environmental change was calculated to stress-test him.
Another micro-slip pulsed through the bond.
Her vision flickered. She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the inversion hit heavier than before.
Her heart raced. Her lungs struggled.
He exhaled sharply, jaw tight, hands clenching, trying to reroute energy, rebuild the partitions, contain the micro-fissures.
But the strain was multiplying.
The cage he had built to protect her was now working against him, feeding pressure into him as much as he tried to contain it.
Every attempt to correct a micro-leak only increased internal friction.
The bond pulsed again—slightly stronger this time.
She staggered backward.
Her chest ached, ribs tightening. The inversion landed fully on her, heavier and sharper.
"You're slipping," she whispered.
Not accusation. Not fear. Pure recognition.
"Not yet," he said, voice low but strained, mask barely holding.
But the bond fluttered irregularly.
Power he no longer fully controlled leaked in tiny, insistent pulses.
Each pulse landed on her, carrying the weight of his internal collapse.
She swallowed, feeling the toll of the inversion.
Not fear. Not despair. Awareness. Knowledge.
When the cage failed entirely, she would feel every fragment of it.
And the system watched. Patient. Analytical. Ruthless.
Every flicker, every tremor, every imperfection logged and measured.
Waiting for the moment the anomaly would break under pressure.
Her fingers curled into fists. Determination flared.
Because when he finally lost control, she would endure it.
And the system would not tolerate failure.