The question was already clawing its way up Eris's throat before Orrian had even finished his sentence.
It was a frantic, jagged thing, born of two days of starvation and the terrifying new silence of a world without its anchor. She wanted the mechanics.
She wanted the coordinates. She wanted to know which ritual, which sacrifice, or which hidden door she had to kick down to reach into the dark and drag Soren back.
"How?" she demanded, her voice a low rasp. "What do I need to do? Tell me where the threshold is. I have the fire—"
"There is no need," Orrian said.
The interruption was flat, calm, and utterly infuriating.
"What do you mean, there is no need?" Eris snapped, her fingers digging into the fabric of her blanket. "My husband is missing. He has slipped through a crack in the very foundation of your 'story' and is currently drifting in a void between worlds. There is every need, Orrian. There is nothing but need."
