Mikhailis stretched, groaning as he sat up in bed, ruffling his already messy hair. The morning mist seeped through the window cracks, curling like lazy fingers around the dim light of the lantern left burning overnight. His golden eyes flickered toward the desk where the stolen Technomancer device pulsed softly, its rhythmic hum filling the otherwise quiet room.
His fingers drummed lazily against the sheets as he blinked away the last remnants of sleep. He had fallen asleep thinking about the damn thing, and now it was the first thing he saw when he woke up. The device looked deceptively simple—smooth, metallic, no visible seams or markings—but the faint glow from within gave it away. Something about it was alive. Not in a literal sense, but in the way it pulsed, like it was waiting.
Rodion's voice cut through his thoughts like a crisp blade.
