The world narrows to vibration and breath and the taste of dust on my tongue, and for a moment it is impossible to tell whether the shaking is coming from the structure itself or from the way my hands are trembling as I grip the bars and brace myself against another impact. Stone groans around me, old mortar giving way in uneven complaints, and somewhere beyond the smoke and noise I can feel the bond burning hot and focused, no longer muffled but still fighting through interference like a blade forced through too many layers of cloth.
Adam is close. Not close enough.
The ward lights stutter again, flaring weakly before dimming into a sickly glow that barely illuminates the corridor, and the iron bars shudder under my palms with a metallic shriek that sets my teeth on edge. I stagger back
