The last day of the week-long wait was the toughest. The workshop was filled with a nervous, electric energy.
The team stood in the large, circular chamber of the Synthesis Loom. Their eyes were all fixed on the huge, black cocoon that hung in the center of the room. For seven long days, it had floated there in the middle of the runic platform. It had been beating with a slow and powerful heat, a deep pulse that felt like a sleeping volcano.
But now, in the final hour, it had gone completely still. The steady beating had stopped. The deep, radiating heat had faded away. The whole room felt cold and silent.
Draven crossed his big, muscular arms over his chest. He was looking at the cocoon with a nervous expression, which was very unusual for him. "Is it supposed to do that?" he asked. "Did it... you know... die in there?
