The first anchor struck Nessa through the recovered field finger.
Her right shoulder rose off Todd's staff. The cage pulled her elbow toward the maintenance gate while the plated finger around her wrist pointed through the oldest square hole in Rillhold's floor.
The second impact drove her chin against the harness strap. Three more followed through separate joints, each carrying a different idea of down.
Todd caught the staff before it rolled from beneath her arm.
"Tell me which pull owns your shoulder before I brace the wrong one."
"None of them own it, but West Four is trying to rent the whole arm."
Beyond the gate, Ty held the White Reaper's scythe across his ribs. His right hand gripped the chain above the blade. Thumb, middle finger, ring finger, and smallest finger tightened together while the empty index joint bent toward the five holes.
The bone was absent. The pain had found every road.
