Chapter 25 · The Price of the Truth

"Stop reading." Calian caught my wrist before my fingers touched the black oathstone.

His grip locked around me. Warm. Hard. Too tight to ignore.

"You said ten seconds," I snapped. "That was eight seconds ago."

"And you think the stone cares about your schedule?"

"No. I think it cares about yours."

The carved surface pulsed under the glass, throwing thin white lines across the archive floor. Each line ran through a name, a date, a disaster report. The records were hidden beneath the old council courthouse, packed into walls that had swallowed people and evidence for generations.

My head already hurt.

Every full reading took something from me. A taste. A face. The sound of Noah laughing with a camera pressed against his shoulder. Small pieces, ripped clean out of my mind and left behind in the stone.

But this record had my sister’s death on it.

I pulled against Calian’s hand. "Let go."

"No."

"That wasn’t a request."

His eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second. Then they hardened again. "You’re shaking."

"I’m standing. There’s a difference."