Chapter 20 · Two Heartbeats

Marcus's hands were shaking so hard the tuning fork slipped twice before he got it wedged into the bell's cracked housing. Blood ran down his wrist—his blood, warm and slick—but the cold was spreading faster now, creeping up from his fingertips like frost on glass.

Cassian stood three feet away, one hand pressed flat against the bell's outer curve. His left eye was still human. His right eye was black all the way through, no white, no iris, just that liquid dark that moved when you looked at it too long.

"You're running out of time," Cassian said. His voice was calm. Almost kind. "The resonance is taking root. You can feel it, can't you? The way your ribs hum when you breathe."

Marcus could feel it. Every inhale pulled something tight in his chest, like a string winding around his sternum. He ignored it and fitted the second tuning fork into place, angling it so the prongs crossed the fracture line. The bell's core was a mess—