The void groaned like metal under too much weight.
Adam stood with his hand still pressed against the Construct's chest, the memory of that last pulse lingering between them. Doubt had been planted. Not as a wound. Not even as resistance. As something stranger.
Possibility.
The Construct's body flickered, edges fraying as if it couldn't decide what shape it wanted to hold. One moment it was steel-smooth and faceless. The next, features blurred across it—Aurora's eyes, Aria's lips, Joshua's still brow, Alfred's jawline, Alexandria's hollow stare. Each appeared, then vanished.
Adam's gaze sharpened. "It's breaking rank."
Veylor's voice cut through the silence, low but urgent. "You're undoing its frame. Stop."
The Construct twitched. It wasn't fighting anymore. It was vibrating. Not unstable. Expanding. The sphere of light above the forge responded, fragments of it bleeding into the Construct's chest, feeding whatever new rhythm had taken root.
