Chapter 15 · Pull It Wrong and We Burn

"Don't you dare pull it straight — you'll flash-fry the whole Spire!" Dax's hand clamped over my wrist and ripped me back from the pit.

"Let go! You're cooking my hand!"

"I'm saving it." His palm was slick with sweat against mine. Heat ripped up from the pit in waves. "You yank it like a drawer and the vents blow. Half a mile gone. You want that?"

The crystal hung in the middle of the furnace. No chain. No pedestal. Just floating. Spinning slow. White at the core, blue at the edges. Every pulse made the whole chamber breathe.

"Okay, genius," I snapped. "Then how?"

"Not you. Me." He shoved me back half a step with his hip. "You don't touch it till I say."

"Oh, hell no. You're not doing the hero thing alone." I shoved him right back. Shoulders slammed. Sweat slipped down my neck. "You said it needs two hands."

"It needs my pulse." He was already rolling his sleeve up. The Tribunal sigil on his forearm lit solid red. Thudding like a second heart. "Furnace is keyed to a judge's vitals. I hold it open. You pull."

"That's insane."

"Yeah. Furnace is insane.