Chapter 8 · The Weight of One

“Get your hand off me, Cael!”

I shoved him, but the brand on my wrist flared white-hot. It wasn't a sting—it was a hook, dragging my skin toward him. I stumbled, boots skidding on rusted metal.

“Stop fighting it,” Cael spat. He was leaning against a railing that looked like it had been chewed on by acid. “The bridge can’t take us both. Step on that plate together, and the whole thing drops. Separate too far? The brand rips the breath out of your lungs before you hit the water.”

I glared at him, chest heaving. “So what? I’m supposed to trust the guy who’s a walking death sentence?”

“Trust me or die.” He stepped closer. He didn't touch me, but I could feel the heat radiating off him, cutting through the freezing wind of the sealed district. “I’m the only one who knows how to balance the load. Move. Now.”

I didn't budge. I looked at the ten feet of shimmering, unstable energy between us. “Who is the second heartbeat, Cael? You didn't answer. Who is it?”

He flinched. Just a flicker in his eyes, but I caught it. He looked away, jaw tightening. “Not here.