He turned slightly, raising a hand. A faint shimmer spread across the ruined courtyard, and instantly, the ground repaired itself. The scorch marks vanished, marble tiles realigned, and the mist rolled back in as though the destruction had never happened.
Asher's gaze lingered on each of them.
"Tomorrow," he said quietly, "we raise the tempo. You'll face me together."
Maxwell exhaled sharply, a grin breaking through his exhaustion. "All of us against you? That's not fair."
"It's not supposed to be," Asher said, a faint smile curving his lips. "Fairness doesn't forge strength. Pressure does."
He looked up at the faintly reddened horizon—the last light of the day shimmering across the barrier walls.
The next morning dawned with a sharp chill in the air. The mists over the Magnus courtyard clung low, curling like pale ribbons over the marble ground. Dew sparkled faintly in the first slant of sunlight, and the silence that followed was deep—expectant.
