"Back!" Lyra roars, sprinting toward Asher, her combat knife drawn. "Get the pups back!"
"Stand down, Lyra!" I scream, sliding to my knees beside Asher. "Do not cut him! Do not shoot him!"
I grab his shifting, metallic right arm with my bare hands.
The cold is absolute. It bites into my skin like dry ice, sending a shockwave of numbness up my shoulder. The geometric lattice pulses, trying to assimilate my flesh, trying to rewrite my cellular structure.
But I don't let go.
"Asher!" I shout, my physical voice ringing across the silent courtyard. "Look at me! Look at my eyes!"
Asher’s head snaps up. His eyes are entirely silver, the pupils dilated, the geometric patterns swirling in his irises. He is panting, his face pale, his jaw clenched in agony.
"Mama," he gasps, his voice a dual-
