Ty hit the sealed door until the sickles sparked white.
The metal held.
Behind it, Zunoder's blood marked the floor in three black-red drops. Each drop smoked around the edges and pulled toward the glowing name on the silver hook between Ty's ribs and the stolen face.
Follow, the sickles seemed to say.
Ty wanted to.
Every old part of him reached through the door. Hands. Teeth. Voice. The face Jade knew. The body Earth would trust for half a second longer than bones wrapped in red fire.
The dark corridor beyond the door carried crow-sound and cold air.
Zunoder was taking all of it away.
JJ touched Ty's elbow bone.
He flinched hard enough to scrape the wall.
"Sorry," she said.
He looked down at her hand.
Blood had dried in the lines of her palm. The white streak in her hair looked brighter under the service lamps. She had bought him seven heartbeats and lost futures he still could barely imagine.
"You should sit," he said.
"You should have skin."
"Low blow."
