Page 84 of Roaring Spell

“You don’t know anything about what I want.”

“I know you’re still standing in front of that siphon instead of activating the fail-safe.” Another step. I’m close enough now to see the sweat on her forehead, the rapid pulse in her throat. “I know you could have ended this the moment you primed the blood magic, but you didn’t. Because some part of you—maybe a big part—still wants to survive.”

Her grip tightens on the knife. I’m right, and she knows it. True believers don’t hesitate. They act with certainty. But Valesh has been playing the long game for twenty years, building her position, protecting her cover. She’s not a martyr. She’s a strategist.

And strategists always want to survive.

“You’re stalling.” Her voice sharpens with desperation she can’t quite hide. “Waiting for backup. But they won’t get here in time. The siphon reaches critical mass in minutes. And when it does⁠—”

“When it does, you’ll be standing right next to it.” I spread my hands, showing I’m unarmed, showing I’m not a threat—even though my bear is screaming at me to lunge for her throat and end this the violent way. “Blood magic fail-safe won’t matter much if the device kills you first. Is that how you want to go? Collateral damage to your own weapon?”

Something cracks behind her eyes. Just for a moment, but I catch it.

It’s enough.

I see what Sakura cannot from her angle—the way Valesh’s weight shifts toward escape rather than commitment. The way her eyes dart toward the tree line. The blood magic is real, but her resolve is cracking. She doesn’t want to die here. She wants to survive, to continue the fight, to preserve herself along with her ideology.

Which means she might run. Might drop the fail-safe and flee into the Overgrowth, leaving the siphon to discharge on its own timeline.

I can’t let that happen.

I can’t let the siphon discharge at all.

My bear’s natural magical resistance has always been a passive gift. Elemental power slides off me like water. Hostile magic finds no purchase. I’ve weathered Sakura’s storms without harm, absorbed the backlash from the trapped siphon at the Registry with nothing worse than burns.

I’ve never tested it against a device designed to drain the Warding Line itself.

But I’m about to.

I don’t give myself time to think.

Thinking would lead to doubt. Doubt would lead to hesitation. And hesitation would give Valesh time to react, time to complete the blood magic, time to doom everyone I care about.

So I stop thinking.

I let my bear take over—not the shift, but the instincts. The certainty. The absolute commitment to protecting what matters, regardless of cost.

I lunge.

Not toward Valesh—toward the siphon.

“Torin, no!”

Sakura’s scream follows me as I cross the clearing in three massive strides. Behind me, I hear her start to move, hear the crackle of lightning as she tries to stop me, tries to save me from my own suicidal idiocy.

She’s too far away. Too slow.

Good. I need her to be safe when this goes wrong.

Valesh raises the knife, confusion turning to understanding turning to horror, but she’s too shocked by what I’m attempting. Too frozen by the sheer stupidity of it. No one absorbs a siphon’s power directly. No one could survive that.

I’m about to find out if bears are the exception.

My hands close around the crystalline surface.

Power floods in.

Oh.