Chapter 15 · Dorian's Choice

Twenty-ninth morning.

The city held its breath.

Harbor tides wrong. Academy bells silent. Students confined to dormitories "for safety."

Loopers walked free—Serath's permission or blind eye.

Confluence chamber door open, red carpet replaced by ash.

Corin waited at the three chairs, dressed like a victor.

"On time," he said. "Cousins."

Dorian stepped forward. "Let them go. Take me if you want blood."

"Sacrifice is crude," Corin said. "I prefer willing sync with winner's essence dominant. I've practiced fifty-nine times."

Kael felt mother's weight—steady now. "No winners. Seal together or loop upgrades to year zero."

Corin's smile flickered. "Bluff."

"Try."

Serath materialized beside Corin—dean face, father voice for one syllable, then Serath again.

"Day twenty-nine," Serath said. "Mid-month ended. Month ends tomorrow. Perform."

Liora, Dorian, Kael took chairs. Tamsin and Vesper at the glass rim with fresh anchor disks.

Corin sat fourth—uninvited.

"Three only," Serath said.

"Bloodline key requires Ashford," Corin said. "I'm Ashford."

"So am I," Kael said.

Debate ended when the breach pulsed—measure twenty-nine, earthquake deep.

Glass floor cracked.

Below, the wound yawned wide enough to swallow the harbor.

"Now," ghost-Miren whispered through disks.

Hearts synchronized—Kael felt Dorian's panic, Liora's focus, his own rage.

Anchor disks burned. Bloodlines opened—