Chapter 67. The Spine Remembers

They built us a ring out of nothing—just stone and bodies and attention. The moon was a day short of full, a pale tooth over Ashfall. Smoke clung to everything the way grief does after a small mercy. I stood in the middle of the Hollow and let the night settle on my skin.

The brand warmed when eyes lied and cooled when they didn’t. The cuff stayed quiet, interested, almost pleased. The Spine lay across my palms with that familiar, bone-deep hum that made me think of doors that open only if you remember to knock with your whole self.

Kael took the edge of the ring. He wasn’t inside it—the old etiquette mattered—but he wasn’t outside it either. His body leaned toward me in the way a compass leans toward home whether you like what home looks like that day or not.

“Three notes,” Orla murmured at my shoulder. “No cleverness. Invite. Don’t demand.”

I set the base of the Spine against the stone. The grooves fit my fingers like grooves that had waited for a particula