The intelligence room had become Marcus's body—an extension of the mind that had always been his real weapon. Six monitors. Three maps. Two whiteboards covered in handwriting so dense it looked like code. He stood at the center of it now, without his cane, for the first time since his recovery had turned a corner. The standing was new. The analysis was not.Alex watched him from the doorway. Marcus had not noticed him yet, which meant Marcus was deep in a pattern he had not yet learned to ignore."You're staring," Marcus said, without turning around."I'm waiting.""For what?""For you to tell me what's wrong."Marcus turned. His face had the particular expression Alex had learned to read during their teenage years—the look Marcus got when he had found something in the data that contradicted what everyone else believed was true."Sit down," Marcus said."I'll stand.""Then I'll sit." Marcus lowered himself into the chair with the careful deliberation of someone whose body was still ne

Vincent was in the meditation hall when Alex found him. The room was dim, the morning light filtered through rice-paper screens, and Vincent sat in the center of the floor with his legs folded in a position that looked uncomfortable but that he had held for an hour without moving.Alex sat across from him. Not in the student position—beside him. Equal."Zhao knows where we are," Alex said. "He has a complete profile of my capabilities, my network, my patterns. He's been building it for thirty-two days while I thought I was winning."Vincent opened his eyes. The specific dark color that Alex saw in his own reflection. "How did you discover it?""Marcus found the pattern in the response data. The absence of response. Zhao's been managing me, not fighting me."Vincent was quiet for a moment. Then: "What do you want to do?""I want to stop being predictable. Lyra suggested—I think she's right—that I've been treating the Voidlord energy as a liability to manage instead of a capacity to dev