Elara's name on the marble was the last human thing between us. The air was thick with three years of silence, grief, and something harder.
"Not here," I said, my voice low.
Jack didn't look away from the stone. "Never here."
We both turned. I reached out and opened a clean path through Ouroboros, a short, sharp cut through space with no flourishes. I stepped through first, the damp earth of the Avalon graveyard vanishing from under my feet. As I passed through the threshold, I sent out the courtesy pings to the five districts, a simple matter of protocol. Each message was one line: Training area request. Skeld Wastes. Do not approach.
Two replies came back almost instantly.
North: Corridor clear.
West: Don't die without me watching. —J.
