"Asher," I say softly, stepping into the chamber.
He doesn't drop the weight. He can't. If he breaks his concentration, the magical feedback will explode.
"I... I can't hold it, Mama," he grunts, his voice strained, his teeth clenched. "The physical... it’s too heavy. The magic wants to push it away. It doesn't want to bind."
"It’s supposed to be heavy, baby," I say, walking up to him and placing my hands on his trembling arms. I don't use magic to lift the weight. I use the merge to ground his nervous system. I take the burning, searing pain of his fraying synapses and pull it into my own body, filtering it through the Anchor’s deep, unyielding stability.
Asher gasps, his eyes widening as the pain recedes.
"You are the mortar," I whisper, my voice echoing in the small room. "The mort
