"Crack—crack."
The crunch carried across the square despite the distance. Tiny fragments snapped between Hyran's teeth. A dry lock of hair clung to his lip for a moment—slick with saliva—then vanished with the next bite.
Orzik stumbled back as if the sound had shoved him. His hand flew to his mouth. He stared at the jaw working—bone, nail, hair—chewed like it was nothing.
His stomach flipped.
He bent over and vomited, loud and violent, then stayed crouched where he was, gasping like he couldn't find air again.
Zarius didn't speak. He turned his face away slowly, jaw locked so tight the muscle jumped.
Hyran kept chewing—slow, steady, almost calm.
With each bite, the edges of the gaping void in his body pulsed faintly, like something inside it was breathing.
The air stank of burnt flesh. Under it ran a sharp metallic tang that made the back of Moriana's throat tighten. She watched, frozen, as thin threads began to form—flesh first, then fur, then bone—crawling back into place inch by inch.
Moriana's gaze dropped to her own arm.
Heat crawled up her skin, wrong and sudden.
What is this…?The Exim—it's overflowing.Why now?!
A memory flashed hard enough to make her blink—two months ago, Zarius's face, the sick way her room had rotted in front of her eyes.
This is bad.
I have to get away from the others before—
No.
If it was going to spill, she'd decide where it went.
Better to pour it into something useful than let it go wild.
Moriana clenched her fist until her knuckles burned. Her breath came uneven, but she kept her voice level as she looked at Gord.
Her voice came out flat, stripped of patience.
"Show me your hand—quick."
I'll use Synchrony.
Gord took half a step forward and held out his wounded left hand. His breathing had started to drag, heavier with each pulse.
Moriana reached inside her coat and pulled out the watch—the same one she had used on the hexagonal shard before.
The metal felt hot against her palm.
She didn't look at it for long.
Moriana drew in a short breath. Keeping her fist tight, she lifted her index finger with deliberate care.
"Banira…"
The watch in her other hand stirred.
Its hands began to turn backward—slow at first, then picking up speed, not rushing, just enough to be felt.
A faint blue glow sparked at her fingertip on her other hand. Threads of light spiraled around it, thin and restless.
She raised her middle finger.
"Flamion…"
The watch reacted.
Its backward-spinning hands halted for a single beat.
A deep, metallic hum rang out—*tunnnn*—thick and heavy, vibrating through her palm.
Then the second hand flared.
It shifted into a glowing, cosmic red, glittering faintly as if embers of starlight had been stretched along its length.
On her other hand, silver threads joined the blue, coiling tighter, sharper.
Then, it's her ring finger turn now.
"Lumiere…"
The watch answered again.
Its hands faltered for a brief instant, then a metallic hum rang out—*tunnnn*—lighter than before, settling into a medium pitch that vibrated softly against her palm.
This time, the minute hand ignited, shifting into a glittering cosmic yellow.
Only the hour hand remained unchange, dull, untouched by the glittering shift.
On her other hand, gold flared—warm, bright, almost too clean for the smell in the air.
The three colors pulsed together at her fingertips. For a fraction of a second, Moriana shut her eyes.
Cute. You think you own me?
Settle down, little Exim.
In her mind, she hovered high above a storm of raw energy—swirling, chaotic, violent. It thrashed below her like it was alive, as if it had been waiting for an opening.
Trying to use this moment to take control?
Good try.
But you forgot a simple fact.
That you're mine.
Her will dropped around it like an iron frame. The cage formed without sound, without mercy. The storm slammed against it, bucked, writhed—
Then compressed under pressure it couldn't fight.
You will flow as much as I want.You will flow when I decide to.I wield you.
Not the other way around.
Now... obey.
******
From nowhere, Morgana was already there.
She was lying on her back, arms stretched behind her head, eyes shut—still in a way that didn't look like rest. It looked practiced. Familiar. Like stillness had been forced into her until it became normal.
She was leaner than before. Her hair was tangled and miserable, left to grow unchecked; hair had grown under her arms and across her pubic area. It wasn't wildness—it was pain.
A smirk tugged at her lips.