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I look at Isolde before answering. “Yes.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “That answer contained missing sections.”
“Several.”
“Corin.”
“I may have to absorb part of it.”
Her face changes only a little, but the bond tells the truth. Fear flashes through her, hot and immediate, before she locks it down. “Part of what?”
“A high-tier devourer.”
Sable appears at my side with terrifying speed. “Absolutely not.”
“Wasn’t asking.”
“You never are when the idea is idiotic.”
Isolde steps closer, voice low enough for only us. “What happens if you absorb it?”
“Rhazek says I might evolve.”
“That is a suspiciously polite word.”
“He also said less human.”
Sable’s face goes white around the mouth. “Corin.”
I reach for her hand before she can turn fear into fury. She grabs mine hard enough to hurt, and I let her. “I am not throwing myself into it for drama. I’m mapping the lines first. We break what we can. Drain what we must. If there is a point where the thing gets loose and the choice is me changing or everyone burning, I will choose changing.”
Sable’s eyes shine with tears she would stab anyone else for noticing. “I hate you.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. You have no idea how much work you are to love.”
That one gets through.
I squeeze her hand. “I’m trying to remain a long-term inconvenience.”
“Try harder.”
Isolde watches us with an expression that softens despite the storm outside. Then she turns practical because that is how she keeps from breaking. “Vaerith’s ward reinforcement fraud means the old civic lines are part of the ritual. His shell contracts route through estate grounds, municipal posts, and three public reservoirs.”
“Show me.”
She points to one of the copied maps spread across the table. “Here. North registry. West drainage arcade. Trade hall east steps. Estate undercroft. If he is using the siphoned soul-energy as summoning fuel, the anchors will pulse in sequence.”
The floor shudders again.
I feel it now: a rhythm beneath the chaos, slow and deliberate. Estate. Registry. Arcade. Hall. Estate again. The ritual is breathing through the district.
“I can follow that,” I say.
“I know.”
The trust in her voice lands like a hand at my back.
