“You did not specify a restriction against repositioning once initial placement was achieved.”
Corin chokes on a laugh. “He found a loophole already.”
“Stay,” I say, pointing toward a chair.
Rhazek looks at it as though it might insult him personally.
“Sit,” I add.
He does.
The movement is controlled, deliberate, and somehow more unsettling than if he had refused. He sits like someone who has studied the mechanics of human posture and decided to replicate it with exact precision.
We eat.
Or rather, Corin eats, I pretend to eat, and Rhazek watches us like we are an experiment unfolding in real time.
“Explain it,” I say finally.
He looks at me. “What specifically?”
“All of it,” I snap. “The bond, the anchor, the proximity, the part where you nearly collapsed because I went for a walk. Start talking.”
Corin leans forward slightly, interest sharpening his expression. “Yes, please. Preferably in words that don’t require a translation guide.”
Rhazek folds his hands on the table. “Vitality anchors stabilize manifested demons within the mortal plane.”
I frown. “Translate that.”
“When an infernal entity manifests in this realm, the structure is inherently unstable due to environmental incompatibility. Anchors provide a stabilizing influence, allowing the manifestation to maintain coherence.”
“You’re saying I’m holding you together,” I say.
“Yes.”
I set my spoon down slowly. “I hate that.”
Corin points between us. “So she’s your anchor. What happens if the anchor fails?”
Rhazek’s gaze shifts to him. “Define failure.”
“Death,” Corin says bluntly.
The word hangs heavy in the room.
Rhazek answers without hesitation. “The manifestation would destabilize completely.”
“And you?” Corin presses.
“I would withdraw.”
“That’s it?”
“That is sufficient.”
Corin leans back, frowning slightly. “That feels like you’re leaving something out.”
“I am providing relevant information.”
