Mama? he whispers, his voice cracking, carrying the deep, grounded resonance of the Mortar, but laced with a fragile, terrifying vulnerability. Did I break the math?
I freeze, my heart breaking. I lean forward, wrapping my bandaged arms around his small, trembling shoulders, pulling him into my chest. No, baby, I say fiercely, kissing the top of his white-and-black hair. You didn't break the math. You fixed it. The moss is quiet. The elders are quiet. You did exactly what you were supposed to do.
Asher sniffles, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, smearing a faint trace of dried blood. It was so loud, Mama. The dampener... it was so cold. I had to pull it in. I had to weave it.
I know, baby, I whisper, stroking his hair. But you don't have to carry the whole world. Just the part
