The washings and the ‘lean forward so we can get in there’ instructions had left me with an enduring awareness of the feature that would stay with me for the rest of my life. For my purposes here, it was the part of the Wretch that extended furthest in.

Where I moved, the Wretch floated around me, equidistant. But it wouldn’t block me. There was a point I could reach out and feel it, with a sense that wasn’t my awareness of my powers, but it wasn’t a barrier. More like a handle.

When I moved it, the Wretch moved around me. The hand tilted a fraction. Away from the body. Closer to the passage.

But with all of its leverage, it was stronger. It fought back, inch by inch. With every inch and every second, I had to be aware that a stray bullet or sudden shock could knock out my forcefield, and I’d need to move to avoid having my head crushed or struck from my shoulders.

Around me, more of the glowing lines began to appear. I turned in place, one hand on the crevice-handle in the forcefield, surveying my immediate situation. Four lines, arranged in a horizontal square, parallel to the ground. They were spaced a good distance apart—I could move a good foot or two before the Wretch made contact with them. A few more feet and it would be me, not my forcefield, that made the contact. But they were what they were.

A collar. Four massive guillotine blades, level with my neck, staying where they were and waiting for my neck to meet them.

Though this had been an open space before, it was easiest to think of it as a house now, doors or windows on each of the four sides. I had the mech at one side, Foil was to my right with the Harbingers, my dad and Swansong to my left, and the dogs across from me. Tristan lay in the middle, unconscious, while Rain was stuck navigating the lines that were intent on trapping him.

“Brandish, use your breaker form!” My dad’s voice.

I had no tears in my eyes, no moisture on my cheeks. My throat was tight, the breaths coming in tense, and every muscle was tight, to the point that it felt like it was choking the tear ducts and constricting the blood flow.

“Carol!”

On a ledge above, Cradle looked down, staring with the lenses on his mask glowing. I could see him, and I saw his head turn. He was tracking something I couldn’t see.

All at once, the Harbingers and Foil broke away. If Cradle had wanted to do something elsewhere, the movement of the three forced him to devote attention here.