Part 2-Chapter 10

Part 2-Chapter 10
As I uttered the words, the phone went dead in my hand. Not a click. Not a tone. Just silence, abrupt and absolute, like the line had been cut rather than dropped.

“Sarah?” I said, staring at the screen.

Nothing.

I tried again. The call wouldn’t connect. No ringing. No voicemail. Just an error message that made no sense given the signal strength blinking confidently in the corner.

Redakai’s hand closed around my wrist. “She is not answering.”

“I know,” I whispered. My throat felt tight, scraped raw from fear I didn’t have words for. “I felt it when the line went quiet.”

Dirk swore under his breath and moved toward the window, pressing his palm to the glass as if he could read the city through vibration alone. “The wards just spiked again. Not here. East. Residential sector.”

Syrus was already moving, voice clipped and sharp. “That is near her.”

“I’m going to her,” I said.

Redakai didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. “No.”

I turned on him, heat flashing through my chest so fast it surprised me. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I do when you are the beacon,” he shot back. “You step outside these walls and whatever is circling you tightens the net.”

“Sarah is out there,” I said. “She’s human.”

“She is not unguarded,” Syrus said. “Lucas will reach her before anything else does.”

I shook my head. “You don’t know that.”

Redakai stepped closer, blocking my path without touching me. His eyes searched my face, not for defiance but for something else. Something cracking.

“No,” he said.

The word landed wrong. Too close. Too sharp.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” I snapped.

He didn’t say anything. Dirk did.

“The pull,” he said. “You felt it in the corridor. You felt it when the name brushed you. Now it’s reaching through someone you care about.”

My stomach twisted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s the point,” Dirk replied gently. “You don’t. And part of you is very determined to keep it that way.”

The wards hummed under my feet, low and restless, like an animal pacing behind a door.

I took a breath. Then another. Something was pressing in on me, not from outside but from under my skin. A tension that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with recognition. Like hearing a melody you once loved and forcing yourself not to hum along because you knew where it led.

“I’m not doing this again,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.

Redakai’s jaw tightened. He heard it.

Dirk tilted his head. “Again?”

I shook my head sharply. “I don’t know why I said that.”

The room flickered.

Not visually. Not fully. Just a momentary thinning, like reality took a shallow breath and forgot to finish it.

Corton swore. “Okay, nope. I officially hate that.”

The floor warmed beneath my feet. Too warm.

I staggered back a step, chest tightening as pressure built behind my sternum. Not pain. Pressure. Dense and coiled, like something gathering itself.

Redakai reached for me and this time I didn’t pull away. His hands were solid, grounding,

anchoring me to now.

“Kaisha,” he said softly. “Stay here. With me.”

The words hit something deep. Something that wanted to cling and something else that wanted to run in opposite directions at the same time.

“I can feel it,” I admitted, voice shaking. “Whatever it is.”

Dirk nodded grimly. “The convergence is no longer approaching you. It’s pressing against the barrier you built.”

“What barrier?” I demanded.

He hesitated.

Redakai answered instead. “The one you do not remember building.”

That did it. Heat flared up my spine, sharp and furious, chased by an immediate wave of nausea. I gasped, clutching at Redakai’s shirt as the room tilted.

“No,” I breathed. “I didn’t do that. I don’t remember that.”

“I know,” he said. “That is why it is holding.”

The pressure surged again, harder this time, and with it came a flash. Not a vision. A sensation. Cold wind across bare skin. The weight of a choice. The certainty that remembering would cost more than forgetting.

I cried out, sound tearing loose before I could stop it. The wards screamed in response.

Every light in the room flared white-hot, then dimmed. Curtains snapped violently as if a storm had punched through the walls. Dirk threw up a stabilizing sigil just in time to keep the ceiling from cracking.

Redakai wrapped his arms around me, bracing me against his chest. “Breathe. Do not chase it.”

“I’m not,” I gasped. “I’m trying not to.”

“That is enough,” Syrus said sharply. “Clear the room.”

Corton ushered Dirk back a step, tension etched deep into his usually careless features. “She’s not bleeding through. She’s sealing.”

Dirk’s eyes flicked to mine. “For now.”

The pressure eased slightly. Not gone. Just…contained.

I sagged against Redakai, exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. My heart hammered, ribs aching like I’d run miles without moving.

“Sarah,” I whispered hoarsely. “We can’t leave her.”

“We will not,” Redakai said. “But we will not rush blind into a trap either.”

A sharp knock echoed through the hall before anyone could respond. Three knocks. Precise. Controlled.

The wards flared again, but this time they didn’t scream. They listened.

Syrus moved to the door, weapon drawn. “Identify yourself.”

A familiar voice answered, calm and edged with urgency. “It’s Lucas.”

Relief and dread collided in my chest. The door opened, and Lucas stepped inside, face pale, eyes bright with adrenaline. “She’s safe,” he said immediately, gaze locking on me. “For now.”

My knees nearly gave out. Redakai tightened his grip.

“What happened?” I asked.

Lucas ran a hand through his hair. “Something tried to get in through her apartment. Not physically. Like pressure. Like…someone knocking from the wrong side of reality.”

My breath caught.

“She heard a name,” he continued. “Not yours. Not exactly. But it scared her bad enough to run.”

The room went very still. Redakai didn’t look at me. He didn’t have to.

Something inside my chest recoiled hard, instinct screaming denial. A refusal so deep it felt older than thought.

“I don’t want to know it,” I whispered. No one asked what I meant.

The wards hummed, low and watchful. Outside, the city held its breath. And inside me, something ancient pressed gently against a door I had sealed once before, waiting to see how long I could keep it closed.