Kain stood at the open doorway of the interrogation chamber, one hand gripping the cold steel frame, his silhouette framed against the pulsing glow of the 5-star containment sigils etched into the HQ's walls.
The air was thick with the sharp tang of metal used to construct the cells and the acrid residue of Malzahir's corrosive spittle, which had just splattered onto Airalai's sleeve, exposing a sigil beneath the surface of the fabric with an unknown purpose.
The sigil pulsed like a heartbeat, its eerie light clashing with the surrounding glow of the room. The team—Darrius, Malzahir, Jax, and Miya—stood clustered outside the reinforced glass panel, their contracts bristling, the tension so dense it felt like a physical weight pressing down on the room.
Kain's voice cut through the stunned silence, low and edged with menace. "What's this sigil's purpose, Airalai?"
