Seth stood motionless in the center of the room. At first glance, he still appeared human, but the vibrant, defiant energy he once carried had been extinguished. His skin was pale, and his eyes had taken on a flat, hollow hue—like clouded glass that reflected nothing.
His clothes were tattered, and his entire body was slick with a layer of dark, drying blood that wasn't entirely his own. Most unsettling was the center of his chest. The jagged crystal Langdon had produced earlier was now embedded deep into Seth's sternum. It throbbed with a sickly, rhythmic light, though it was now partially obscured by a strange, translucent layer of organic growth that looked like a mixture of scar tissue and crystalline scales.
Langdon paced around him, his boots clicking on the blood-stained floor. He wore a satisfied, almost manic grin as he inspected his handiwork.
