THE pod hissed open, and Cynric stumbled out into the cool, dimly lit room. His body trembled, a fine, uncontrollable shaking that started deep in his bones and worked its way out to his fingertips. He tried to steady himself against the smooth, curved surface of the pod, but his legs felt weak and distant, like they didn't fully belong to him anymore.
His breath came in short, ragged pulls. The air felt thin and strange in his lungs. He could still feel the ghost of it, the weight of his brother's pity clinging to him like a bad smell. It made his skin crawl.
He took one shaky step, then another, trying to put distance between himself and the machine. He just needed to get to his room. He just needed to be alone. But the emotion he'd locked down inside was starting to break free. It's like a raw and aching pressure in his chest that made it hard to breathe.
