The first fracture in the cage was thin as a hairline crack in glass, but the sound it made echoed through the antechamber like a bone snapping. Lira flinched; Yuri didn't. He just stared at the widening fissure, jaw tight, blade angled downward but ready to rise with a single twitch of muscle.
A second crack spider-webbed from the first.
Lira backed up a step. "It shouldn't be breaking through this fast. This is a full containment weave—nothing unclassified should be able to dent it."
"It isn't unclassified anymore," Yuri said. "It's learning."
The creature didn't thrash or struggle. It simply stood in the center of the golden cage, one hand still pressed against the barrier, almost curious as the cracks multiplied beneath its palm. Its eyes didn't leave Yuri.
The violet glow pulsed once. Twice. Like it was syncing to something.
Or someone.
Lira grabbed his arm. "Why is it pointing at you? What did you do?"
"Nothing," Yuri said. "Nothing deliberate."
