Her tone left no space for hesitation. Spirit energy shimmered faintly around her hand as she reached toward the lid, the pulse matching the tray's growing hum. The air thickened instantly—cold, charged with potential. The scent of ozone grew more metallic, more pointed, like something about to crack.
"You're soul will interconnect every 122 days," she said, as she brought her other hand into place, steadying the surface. "Roughly a single day will pass back on your home world. When that happens, you'll lapse back to your original body, temporarily."
Her eyes met Elias's, sharp behind the lenses. Not unkind—just precise.
"It's important that neither body dies during that period. You're now tethered across both timelines. If one ends..."
She shook her head once, jaw tight.
"I don't know what happens to a split soul after death. But it won't be good."
The hum intensified.
