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"You press that button, I tell everyone who you are."
Mira didn't move from the doorway. Ten people crowded behind her, all lower ward by the look of their patched jackets and burn scars. All watching me.
I pulled my hand back from the screen. The献祭协议 prompt flickered, waiting.
Carson's blade stayed right where it was, half an inch into my neck. "Step back, Quinn."
"Not until she explains what the hell that screen says." Mira jerked her chin at the interface only I could see. "You activated something. The whole room lit up."
"It's nothing."
"Liar." She walked forward. Carson shifted his weight but didn't pull the sword. "That broadcast said six days. Said you opened the door. Said you're his."
I met her eyes. "I'm not his."
"Then whose are you?" She stopped three feet away. Close enough I could smell oil and smoke on her coat. "Because you sure as hell aren't one of us."
The screen pulsed. Blood from Carson's blade dripped down my collarbone, warm and slow. I could activate it. Lock in whatever power the old king left behind. Maybe buy myself leverage.
Or maybe confirm exactly what they all suspected.
I dismissed the prompt. The interface vanished.
Carson exhaled and pulled the blade back an inch. Not away. Just enough I could breathe.
"I need to see the lower wards," I said.
Mira laughed. Sharp, bitter. "Why? So you can count how many of us are expendable?"
"So I can figure out what upgrades will actually keep you alive."
Silence. Then one of the men behind Mira spoke up, voice rough. "Gate's failing. We all know it. Upper wards get the barriers, we get the overflow."
"Because you're closer to the core," I said. "If I reinforce the lower sections first, the whole structure stabilizes."
"If," Mira repeated. "How many ifs do we get before the tide comes through and drowns us?"
I pushed away from the wall. Carson's sword tracked me but he let me move. I walked past Mira to the window. The lower wards spread out below, a maze of narrow alleys and stacked housing lit by failing glow-stones. Beyond them, the black tide pressed against the outer wall, higher than it had been yesterday.
"Four days," I said. "That's what I've got. You want proof I won't abandon you? Come with me. Show me where it's breaking. I'll fix it."
"With what?" Mira moved up beside me. "Royal magic?"
I turned to face her. "With the core. It responds to me. I can allocate defense points, reinforce weak sectors, reroute power. But I can't do it blind."
She studied me. I could see her working through it, weighing risk against reward.
"You try to run, I slit your throat myself," she said finally.
"Deal."
Carson stepped between us. "She's not going down there without me."
"Afraid we'll keep her?" Mira smiled, all teeth.
"Afraid you'll get her killed before I'm done with her."
The way he said it made my skin prickle. Like I was a resource he hadn't finished extracting. I shoved past both of them toward the door.
"Let's go before the next wave hits."
The lower wards were worse up close. Walls patched with scrap metal, streets slick with runoff from the upper levels. People watched us from doorways and broken windows. Nobody looked surprised. Just tired.
Mira led us through a section where the buildings leaned against each other for support. "Tide came through here two nights ago. Took six people before we could seal it."
"Where?"
She pointed to a gap between two structures. I could see the black shimmer at the back, a thin membrane pulsing like a bruise.
I walked toward it. Carson grabbed my arm.
"Don't."
"I need to see how deep it goes."
"You need to not be an idiot." His grip tightened. "That's not a crack. That's an opening."
I pulled free and kept walking. The interface flickered to life as I got closer, throwing data across my vision. Structural integrity 34%. Tide pressure critical. Recommended action: Evacuate sector.
No option for reinforcement. Just evacuation.
I reached for the control ring on my wrist, pulled up the core allocation screen. Twenty-three defense points available. The lower ward sections were all red, flashing warnings. I dumped fifteen points into the nearest node.
The membrane shuddered. Then it started to solidify, black fading to gray to translucent. The buildings stopped groaning.
Behind me, someone gasped.
"What did you do?" Mira's voice was different now. Careful.
"Reinforced the barrier. It'll hold for a few days." I checked the interface. "Maybe a week if the tide doesn't spike."
"Do it again," the rough-voiced man said. "Next street over. It's worse there."
I walked where he pointed. Another gap, wider this time. The black tide visible through it, roiling. I could see shapes moving inside. Not human.
I allocated another eight points.
The barrier snapped into place. Solid. Clean.
Mira was beside me now, watching my wrist. "That ring. It's a control interface."
"Yes."
"He put it on you."
"Yes."
"Can he take it off?"
I met her eyes. "Probably."
She looked at Carson, who stood ten feet back with his hand on his sword. Then back at me.
"You're a prisoner," she said quietly.
"I'm a resource. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
Before I could answer, a kid screamed.
I turned in time to see a boy, maybe ten, stumble backward into the gap we'd just passed. The one I'd reinforced.
Except the barrier was flickering. Failing. And something on the other side had noticed.
The tide bulged inward. A limb, too many joints, shoved through the weakening membrane. It wrapped around the kid's ankle.
He hit the ground, clawing at the cobblestones. The limb dragged him backward.
I ran.
Carson shouted something behind me but I was already at the gap, grabbing the kid's wrists. His eyes were white all around, mouth open in a soundless scream.
The limb pulled harder. I pulled back.
The interface screamed warnings across my vision. Tide contact imminent. Contamination risk critical.
I locked my feet against the edge of the barrier and hauled. The kid came forward an inch. Two.
The limb tightened. I felt something crack in the kid's ankle. He found his voice and screamed again.
I yanked the control ring up with my teeth, bit down on the edge, and jammed my wrist into the gap.
The ring flared white-hot. Pain shot up my arm. The barrier convulsed, snapped solid, and severed the limb.
The kid and I went sprawling backward. Black ichor sprayed across the stones, hissing. The severed limb thrashed once and dissolved into smoke.
I lay on my back, breathing hard. My wrist felt like I'd shoved it into a forge. The kid was crying, clutching his ankle.
Mira crouched beside me. She wasn't looking at the kid. She was looking at my wrist, where the ring had burned a perfect circle into my skin.
"You could've lost your hand," she said.
"I didn't."
"You didn't hesitate."
I sat up. Carson was already with the kid, checking his ankle. The rough-voiced man was herding people back. Someone brought a blanket.
Mira stood and offered me her hand. I took it. She pulled me up, held on a second longer than necessary.
"Maybe you're not one of us," she said. "But maybe you're not one of them either."
She let go and reached into her coat. Pulled out something wrapped in cloth. Unwrapped it.
A broken blade. Short, jagged. The hilt was corroded but I could still see the engraving. A wave and a crown.
Royal crest.
"My father picked this out of the blood pool under the throne," Mira said. "The night your family burned."