Asher gasps, his back arching. His small hands grip the edges of the spire, his knuckles turning white.
Hold him! I scream in my mind, throwing my consciousness down the mate bond.
I don't use magic. I use the sheer, brute force of my mortal love. I push my own heartbeat, my own breath, my own mortal fragility into the bond. Kade joins me, his massive, unyielding will wrapping around Asher’s mind, creating a fortress of human emotion against the cold, mathematical assault of the Formless.
Feel the ground, little wolf, Kade projects, his mental voice a roaring, unyielding drumbeat. Feel the dirt. Feel us. We are the Shield.
Through the bond, I feel Asher’s consciousness expanding, connecting directly to the Third Anchor. He is drowning in the data, the cold, perfect logic of the Formles
