The pink thread around Ty's old throat sang when the stolen body tried to breathe.
Yun-Jin came through the smoke behind it, one sleeve torn away, hair stuck to her cheek with sweat and arena dust. Blood ran from a cut above her brow. Pink light poured from her raised hand in three braided strands, each one hooked into the air like a fisherman's line.
The body wearing Ty's face looked back at her.
Its smile returned.
"There you are," it said.
Yun-Jin pulled.
The thread bit deep.
Ty's old body slid a full step across broken stone before its boots caught. Black cuffs flashed. The left cuff dragged lower after Omina's cut, heavy as a shackle filled with rain.
Yun-Jin saw that.
She saw the skeleton with both sickles.
She saw JJ behind Heissman, wrist tag burned black, sponsor panels circling her like hungry cards.
She saw Ty turn his skull toward JJ first.
The sight hit clean through her ribs, ridiculous and sharp inside a disaster large enough to swallow cities.
