Corin points at me. “And yet you sounded like you were cataloging a rare venomous bird.”
“You are rare, venomous, and frequently decorative.”
Sable sighs. “Please do not flirt through insults while I am processing my brother’s possible immortality.”
“We were not flirting,” Corin and I say at the same time.
Her look could peel bark.
Corin drops his hand. “Poor timing.”
“Terrible timing,” I agree.
The flame in Corin’s palm returns, smaller now, unbidden but calm. He looks down at it, and sunlight passes through the gold without dimming it. Sable does not step back. She watches as if watching long enough might teach her how to be unafraid.
I move closer, stopping beside them rather than over them. That matters. I will not loom while the shape of their bloodline changes beneath our feet.
“All three of us share infernal current,” I say. “But not identically. Sable and I are joined through the dual bond. Corin is threaded through the outer structure, anchored by exposure, healing, and blood proximity. His connection is adjacent, not subordinate.”
Sable’s brows draw together. “Blood proximity?”
“The Ardyn line responded to your merged essence. His body recognized a related source and accepted reinforcement through it.”
She swallows. “So this happened because he is my brother.”
“And because he chose to stand at the perimeter and hold the ritual together when it should have torn apart.”
Corin’s smile turns brittle. “There is that unfortunate heroism again. I really must quit.”
Sable looks at him, and the full force of her love hits the bond so hard I nearly stagger. “Don’t you dare.”
He stills beneath it.
She continues, voice low and fierce. “Do not make jokes that sound like leaving.”
His eyes shine gold for one aching second. “I won’t.”
The promise is quiet. It carries no flourish, no elegant escape route.
The yard accepts it with a hush.
Beyond the fence, the afternoon wind moves through the trees. The sealed circle beneath the grass warms faintly, responding to the three currents now standing within its reach. Mine burns deep and old. Sable’s runs bright and living beside it. Corin’s flickers at the edge, new and sharp, searching for its own pattern.
Three points.
No longer a pair with a witness outside.
No longer a mortal bloodline circling an infernal disaster and praying not to be touched.
Sable releases Corin’s shoulder at last and looks toward the ruined target. “You are not training alone anymore.”
“I suspected that decree was coming.”
“And no hiding symptoms.”
“Regrettably reasonable.”
“And if horns appear at dinner, we discuss them like adults.”
