Kain's eyes snapped open. The world of Pangea bled away, the drifting streaks of soul light and the contracting beasts fading into mist. His vision adjusted to the dim chamber once more—the recruits slumped in their seats, tattoos still faintly glowing, their breathing shallow.
For a long heartbeat, silence reigned. Then, one by one, the initiates stirred.
The woman with the collapsed lung sat up first, her chest rising evenly, her rasp gone. She pressed a trembling hand to her ribs, eyes widening behind the mask.
Excitement boiled over. Without hesitation, the recruits summoned their new contracts.
Kain opened his mouth to order restraint—but it was already too late.
