Cold stone pressed against Caleb's spine.
He lay flat beneath the cracked glass of his visor. The ceiling disappeared into the dark. The chamber stayed cold, untouched by the heat boiling through the tunnels above.
Old air moved across his jaw.
He tried to lift his right hand.
Nothing answered.
Caleb tried again, smaller this time. Thumb first. Index finger. A twitch in his jaw. The order reached his body and died somewhere under the venom. Paralysis locked him flat against the slab, from jaw to fingertips.
The custom ballistic weave pulled tight across his ribs. At a one-point-two percent sync rate, the dead fibers offered zero assistance to his locked joints. The cold from the stone table seeped through the heavy fabric.
It sank directly into his marrow. His chest sat hollow and heatless, stripped of anything his body could still spend.
