"Shit," he whispered.
His hand trembled slightly.
He glanced down.
A flicker on his glove's touchpad. The haptic interface buzzed, a feedback spike where none should've registered. The static discharge had singed the glove's outer coating—an unintended pulse. His wrist flexed on instinct, swiping away the alert, but the warning remained.
Abnormal EM output detected.
Mira looked up.
"We've got discharge. From inside. Power buildup."
Elias strained.
His right arm jerked, a twitch more instinct than movement, but the result was real—another crack split across the crystal's inner wall, a sharp fissure hissing outward. Slivers of blue glass-like material flaked loose. The pieces scattered near his boots in a soft cascade, the sound deceptively delicate in the sterile hush of the lab.
He gritted his teeth.
