Silas staggered back, his boots dragging against the dirt as he braced himself, the sharp clatter of metal hitting the ground filling the space. The extraction tool trembled in his grip, still locked around the shard.
Colby's body convulsed, a ragged scream tearing from his throat.
His hand clutched his shoulder, fingers digging into the raw, open wound where the shard had been torn free. His breath came out uneven, his chest rising and falling in short, erratic bursts.
Kikaru and Paul shook, their muscles refusing to respond, their bodies still fighting off the lingering effects of whatever was coursing through them. They could only watch—trapped inside their own skin.
Silas exhaled, rolling his shoulder, before lifting the shard into the light.
The flesh and blood clung to its surface, streaking the crystalline structure in messy, uneven smears.
