“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Quentin stammered, his teeth chattering. “Sidney… Cadence… they violated the Divine Oracle. They descended without permission—” His voice cracked as he clung to the rehearsed excuse.

The air snapped, sharp as ice splitting.

Jared tapped Quentin’s shoulder with his glowing fingertip.

Nothing exploded. Nothing shattered.

Instead, flesh, bone, and fabric darkened, cracked, and crumbled away. In seconds, a fist-sized hollow opened at the joint—clean, bloodless, perfectly smooth and gray.

As if that part of him had never existed.

“Aaaah!” The scream tore out of him, raw and primal.