Chapter 17 · Summoning Me Again

The pull hit Mark between his ribs.

Not a cramp. Not indigestion. Something hooked behind his sternum and yanked.

He stumbled, caught himself on the alley wall. His vision blurred at the edges. Toria's basement was two streets back. Ella was gone to fetch water. Veran was somewhere behind him, probably watching.

"Shit."

The pull came again. Harder.

Mark's knees buckled. His palms scraped brick. The world tilted and for half a second he wasn't in the alley anymore—he was standing in a chalk circle, teenagers in robes chanting, the air tasting like copper and burnt sugar.

Then he slammed back. His forehead hit the wall.

"Chen."

Veran's voice. Close.

Mark twisted, still on his knees. The executor stood three feet away, one hand on his sword hilt. Not drawn. Just resting there.

"You good?"

"No." Mark coughed. His chest felt like someone had tied a rope around his lungs. "It's pulling."

"What is."

"The circle." Mark pressed his palm flat against the brick. Centered himself. Breathed. "The summoning circle. It's active."

Veran's expression didn't change. But his hand shifted on the hilt.

"You said it was one-way."

"I said I didn't know." Mark gritted his teeth.