The white was not light. It was a scream made of color—a blinding, absolute cancellation of the world.
When Kaelen's hand closed around mine, the laws of nature didn't just bend; they shattered. The absolute zero of the Sapphire Frost in my veins collided with the solar-flare intensity of Kaelen's obsidian-shadowed soul. The result was a thermal shock of such magnitude that the air in the Salt Spire didn't just hiss—it exploded.
I felt the salt-mirrors around us vaporize. I felt the floor of the tower groan as the foundations began to liquify under the contradictory pressure. But more than the physical carnage, I felt Kaelen.
Through the contact, our bond didn't just thrum; it became a hurricane. For a heartbeat, there was no "I" or "He." There was only a chaotic, bleeding fusion of memories. I felt the weight of his guilt—the cold, jagged stones of the mountain that had crushed him, the violet rot of the possession, and the agonizing, singular need to reach me.
