Ashera feels the Spirit Connection flare hot in her chest without warning. It burns outward like a living thing, reaching for Neko across whatever distance separates them. She cannot tell if the connection is shielding him from something or lashing out at a threat she cannot see. The energies swirl between her ribs, ribbons of translucent light that twist and pulse with their own rhythm. She tries to pull them back, to calm the fire spreading through her lungs, but the connection refuses her. It moves without her will, stretching toward Neko like a hand she cannot control. Through the bond she feels him—muffled, pressed down—and the connection flares hotter in response. The light coils tighter, and Ashera understands with cold certainty that the connection has learned to act on its own. She wanted to reach him before he had to ask. Now something inside her is reaching, and she has no idea if it will save him or hurt him. Her fingers find the vine leash at her belt. The woven strands feel rough against her palm, the knots tight at one end where she grips it. The other end hangs loose and wild. She made it weeks ago as a reminder—control looks like this, she had told herself, tight and deliberate. But protection could become restraint. Love could become a cage. The connection pulses again, and the leash slips from her hand. She lets it fall. Whatever the Spirit Connection has become, she cannot hold it back anymore. She can only learn to guide it before it pulls Neko somewhere neither of them can return from. She runs. The path takes her to the clearing where the shattered mirror stands, its cracked surface reflecting the forest in broken pieces. Vines crawl across the glass, turning her reflection into something fragmented and strange. She sees herself split apart—a dozen versions of the same person, each one reaching for something different. The connection still burns in her chest, but here in front of the broken glass, she stops fighting it. She presses her palm to the mirror's surface and lets the light flow through her fingers into the cracks. The energies spread across the glass like roots seeking water. She cannot control where they go, but she can feel them searching, learning the shape of what is broken. This is what mastery looks like—not holding back the power, but staying present while it moves through her.

The woman won't say how she knows about the thing that hunts Neko. She crosses her arms and stares at the wooden hand rising from the earth, its bark-covered fingers spread wide like it's catching rain. Ashera asks again. The stranger shakes her head. "You don't need to know what it is," she says. "You need to stop feeding it." Ashera feels the connection pulse in her chest, still hot from the mirror's destruction. She thinks of the shattered pool she left behind, glass fragments glowing faintly with residual light. Every piece a marker. Every shard a trail. The stranger finally meets her eyes. "I had someone too," she says quietly. "I thought I could reach them faster if I pushed harder." She doesn't finish. Ashera understands without hearing the rest. She needs to know if the damage can be undone. The shattered pool is still out there, lit by the connection's power. Ashera turns back toward the clearing, but the stranger catches her wrist. "Don't," the woman says. "Touching it again will only make it brighter." Ashera pulls free. She has to see what she created, has to know if the light is fading or growing stronger. When she reaches the clearing, the pool of broken glass gleams like water under moonlight. The glow isn't fading. It's spreading. Thin lines of light crawl outward from each fragment, tracing patterns across the dirt. Ashera kneels at the edge and reaches toward the nearest shard. The connection surges before her fingers touch glass. She jerks her hand back, and the light flares brighter in response. The stranger was right. She can't fix this by pouring more of herself into it. The stranger appears at the clearing's edge, standing near a weathered canvas tent Ashera hadn't noticed before. The tent's poles lean slightly, fabric rippling in the wind. "You've been here a while," Ashera says. The woman nods. "Watching," she admits. "Waiting to see if you'd figure it out on your own." Ashera looks at the glowing pool, then back at the stranger. "Figure out what?" The woman steps closer but keeps her distance from the light. "That power doesn't care about your intentions. It only does what it does." Ashera feels the words like a blade between her ribs. She wanted the connection to protect Neko, to shield him before the darkness could touch him. Instead she turned it into a signal fire. The stranger gestures at the pool. "This doesn't go away. But you can learn to stop making it worse." Ashera sits at the pool's edge as the stranger returns to her tent. The light still pulses beneath the shattered glass, steady and unmistakable. She cannot undo what she's done. The connection has already called out, and something is listening. But she can stop adding to the beacon. She presses her palms against her thighs and feels the power coil hot in her chest, searching for somewhere to go. She doesn't release it. The connection pushes harder, demanding an outlet, but Ashera holds it inside. Her arms shake with the effort. Sweat gathers at her temples. The light in the pool doesn't fade, but it stops spreading. When the sun finally sets, Ashera is still sitting there, every muscle burning from the work of keeping the power contained. She has learned what it costs to stop calling. Tomorrow she will learn what it costs to move forward without leaving a trail.

She leaves the glow behind, sore and empty, but determined to do no more harm. Therefore, she walks until the forest shifts and the air thins. The bond slams open. Neko feels near, then the shape hits her: black bars, bone hands, rot. Her reach tightens it. She chokes the surge back, tasting iron. Ahead, a stone rises, vines lit like her mistake. They twist inward, knotting into a cage-shape at the top. A mark. A warning. She chooses a new rule: reach like breath, not a fist. Today she backs away from the glow. Tomorrow she will practice touch without weight. She will not build his cage again.