Julius held the shard of fractured core between his fingers, the ember veins pulsing faintly as if the thing still breathed. With steady hands, he dropped it into the bowl of boiling water.
The fragment cracked with a brittle hiss. For a moment the sound was soft, almost harmless, until it became pale, red motes of star dust began to bleed into the water. The surface shimmered like liquid fireflies, swirling and spreading, tinting the clear water into something dangerous and otherworldly.
Julius waited. Patient as stone. He could have stirred it, sped the process along, but hesitation was wisdom here. If he agitated the mixture too soon, he risked destroying the fragile balance of dust and heat.
