The convoy fell silent.
Smoke drifted from the damaged transports. Emergency lights flashed, but no one moved. The guards who were still conscious stayed down. They knew better now.
Asher walked past them and stopped in front of the central carrier.
Up close, he could feel it clearly.
The thing inside was wrong.
It was dense, compressed far beyond safe limits. Multiple soul signatures forced together, barely held in place by suppression layers that were never meant to last this long.
"They rushed you," Asher said. "And you're tearing yourself apart."
The carrier shook again. Fine cracks spread across the surface as containment struggled to hold.
Asher placed his hand on the outer shell.
The response was immediate.
Pressure surged outward, sharp and chaotic. Not an attack. A reaction. Like something waking up in pain.
Asher grounded himself and pushed back with controlled force. Not raw power. Precision.
