Naeria slammed another crystal against the tabletop. It cracked, sending blue shards skittering across the ancient stone. The seventh attempt in as many minutes, each one yielding nothing but frustration.
"Hold still," she ordered, seizing a copper rod etched with spiraling script. Her movements had grown jerky, impatient. "This should resonate with the shard's frequency."
Soren remained motionless on the uncomfortable stool, his bare chest covered in dried sweat and strange powders from her previous tests. The shard pulsed cold against his skin, but revealed nothing to Naeria's increasingly desperate probing.
The rod touched his chest. Nothing happened.
"Impossible," she muttered, tossing it aside and reaching for a small vial of silvery liquid. "The properties should align perfectly."
The liquid felt ice-cold as she painted it in a circle around the shard. Again, nothing.
