The door slammed open hard enough to rattle the thin metal walls.
A man staggered inside, one hand clamped to his side. Blood slipped between his fingers and dripped onto the concrete floor. It was dark—too dark—and when it caught the light, there was a faint tint of amber mixed in.
He hit the wall and slid against it, breathing uneven.
The glow in the corners of his eyes flickered, weaker than it should have been.
"Amber—… I…" His voice cracked. "I need it."
At the far end of the room, a woman sat at a steel table.
She had just drawn a fresh syringe. The liquid inside glowed a deep molten orange. Without hesitation, she slid the needle into her arm and pushed the plunger down. Amber flowed into her veins.
Her shoulders relaxed.
Her pupils sharpened.
The molten color spread into her corneas.
"I need it… please," the man said again. He tried to stand straighter but failed. "I'm bleeding."
She looked up at him slowly.
