“You healed him,” I say.
“I corrected the condition,” he replies.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is a precise one.”
I step toward him, frustration sharpening every word. “What did you do to him?”
“What was required.”
“That is not good enough.”
His eyes return to mine, steady and unyielding. “The contract has shifted.”
“I gathered that much.”
“Then you understand that the original terms no longer apply.”
“I understand that my brother was dying yesterday and is now lifting water buckets like nothing ever touched him,” I snap. “So start explaining.”
“I will not provide full disclosure at this stage.”
Anger flares hot and immediate. “You think I signed my life away for partial answers?”
“I think you signed without understanding the full scope of what you invoked.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to keep me in the dark.”
“It means the situation is more complex than you anticipated.”
“Then make it simple,” I demand.
“No.”
The refusal lands hard, final.
A sharp laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“I do not engage in humor.”
“That’s a shame, because this is ridiculous.”
I turn and push past him, shoving the door open hard enough to rattle the hinges. Cool air strikes my face as I step outside, sharp with salt and damp earth, and I keep moving because staying still feels like surrender.
“Sable—” Corin calls after me.
“Stay inside,” I throw back, not slowing.
I do not stop until I reach the edge of the district, where the worn stones mark a boundary more felt than seen. The air shifts subtly as I cross it, the atmosphere thinning in a way that presses lightly against my chest.
I step beyond the line.
The hum beneath my skin falters.
It stutters once, then again, like a rhythm thrown out of sync. A tight pressure builds behind my eyes, and the faint connectionI have been ignoring since the contract sealed pulls sharply, as though something has been stretched too far.
I take another step.
