"My diary," he finished, pushing it toward me. "Every battle, every loss, every mistake I made up until the day the world turned to ash. Everything you've faced—Siegfried, the Beneath One, the fall of the Ironspine—it's all in here. But the ink is starting to fade, Craig. Do you know why?"
I looked at my hands. "Because I'm changing it?"
"Because you're trying to," he corrected, his expression darkening. "But you're doing it with a hammer instead of a needle. You used 150% back there. You forced the Law to bend to your rage. If you keep doing that, you won't live to see the child Luviyah is carrying. Your vessel is cracking because you haven't mastered the Control."
He leaned forward, tapping the book. "You think you're at 100%? You've only truly mastered 62% of the Magicore's potential. The rest is just raw, undirected pressure that is eating you alive. You're a god in a glass jar, and the jar is shattering."
