Dillon was in his own bed, katana across his knees, still unsheathed. He hadn't moved since they'd returned. His Cloud Serpent's absence was palpable as the silence where there should have been crackling static was empty.
"She took the shrapnel for me," Dillon said when Nathan entered. His voice was flat, stripped of its usual theatrical energy. "Saw the bat coming. Moved before I could. Wrapped around me. Took the hit." He ran a thumb along the blade's edge. "I haven't even given her a name yet. Been with me since my first climb, and I never named her. And she still..."
"She's a summon," Nathan said quietly. "She doesn't need a name to know you care."
Dillon looked up. His eyes were hollow. "How do you do it, Cross? Watch them shatter and keep going?"
Nathan thought of green light. Of Mirko's voice cutting out. Of the cold moment when his summon mark burned and there was nothing he could do.
"You just do," he said. "Because stopping isn't an option."
