Eli accepted the imprint in the fixed service recess, with the return line lying beside his boot.
Nothing in Rena’s face came back to him. No last thought crossed his own. The new ability settled as a pattern he could reach for, a shape in the familiar place where the other imprints waited. It was quieter than the offer had made him expect, and the absence of drama did nothing to make it safe.
“Accepted,” he said.
Juno wrote the time. “Stored count?”
“Five. Sight, Anchor, movement, stadium defense, Quiet Field.”
“Equipped count?”
“Still three. The old three until the change is finished.”
Tessa checked the page against the interface he showed her. The words were ordinary and laborious, but he had discovered too often how danger entered through an unspoken until.
