In the underground stillness of the keep’s archive, Ren Vale tried to bargain with the laws of reality.
“Brother Ren,” Ren said, rising from his knees, his eyes burning with wild, desperate resolve. “Activate the bond. Use Martyr’s Substitution. Transfer the fracture from her chest into mine.”
Brother Ren froze, the glass vials in his hands trembling. He looked at Ren, his glasses catching the dim amber light of the animal fat lamps.
“Ren, you don’t understand what you’re asking,” Brother Ren said, his voice hushed and scared. “The Martyr’s Substitution is an eighth-circle Divergent deep ring. It was forged in the plague hospitals of Oakhaven. It operates by living parity. It transfers flesh trauma—burned skin, cut arteries, crushed muscle, poison in the blood. It needs matching cellular receptors.”
“I don’t care about matching receptors!” Ren shouted, slamming his palm against the granite table, rattling the brass measuring tongs and inkwells. “She took that bone-shaking blast for me! If she can take a dreadnought’s explosion into her bones, I can take a crack in my collarbone! Transfer the damage!”
Brother Ren closed his eyes, his chest heaving with silent grief. He reached out with both hands, placing his right palm over Mira’s glowing quartz chest and his left palm over Ren’s woolen tunic, directly above his collarbone.
