“It is an accurate summary.”
“Then explain the summary.”
“It means that increased distance between us introduces destabilization into my manifested form and may affect the sustained function currently operating within your brother.”
Corin’s attention sharpens instantly. “May?”
“The contract is still recalibrating.”
Sable turns toward me, and the spike of her anger hits the tether like a physical blow. The surge disrupts my core for a fraction of a second, a fracture that begins at the center and radiates outward before correcting. The recovery is stronger than the disruption, but the initial break forces a recalculation I cannot ignore.
“You are telling me my brother’s life depends on how far I walk,” she says, each word precise and cutting.
“I am telling you that the parameters have not yet stabilized enough to provide absolute assurances.”
“That answer is unacceptable.”
“It is still correct.”
Corin lifts one hand, his tone dry. “For the record, I also find that answer deeply unacceptable.”
Sable does not look away from me. “Then we test it.”
I incline my head slightly. “That is already my intention.”
She gestures sharply. “Do it where I can see you.”
“I had no intention of conducting the test out of your line of sight.”
“That almost sounded cooperative.”
“It was efficient.”
I allow the script to remain suspended and step backward. The tether stretches as I move, not like a physical restraint but like a pressure differential adjusting across distance. At five paces, the change is negligible. At seven, there is a faint distortion along the edges of my fingers. At ten, the effect becomes measurable.
The definition of my hand blurs for an instant, the shape losing cohesion before reasserting itself. The sensation is subtle but unmistakable, accompanied by a metallic tang that settles across my senses.
Sable notices immediately. “Your hand.”
I flex my fingers, restoring their shape. “Minor destabilization at ten paces.”
Corin’s brows rise. “Minor? It looked like you were forgetting how to exist.”
“I did not forget.”
“You definitely flickered.”
Sable steps forward, closing the distance by two paces. The distortion recedes before she finishes the movement, the tether tightening into a cleaner alignment. Her presence does not merely stabilize the effect; it recalibrates it, correcting the imbalance faster than my own control could achieve alone.
Her expression hardens as she registers the shift. “You feel it when I move.”
“Yes.”
“And it gets worse the farther I go.”
“Yes.”
She exhales sharply. “I hate that.”
