The compressed core of the ceramic dagger fractured with the sudden, violent force of a detonating thunderstone.
A blinding pulse of concussive shock exploded between Hajin's blistered palms, blowing his fingers apart in a shower of white sparks.
The razor-sharp ceramic tip tore free from the friction grip, propelled forward by the dying payload toward the alcove curtains.
Behind those thin fabric layers, five-year-old Mera lay helpless in her suspension ward, completely unaware of the incoming death sentence.
"Hajin!" Vella cried out in horror, lunging forward with empty hands that possessed zero offensive threads to intercept the projectile.
"The trajectory is locked onto her vital core... someone stop that flying shard!"
Time seemed to grind to an absolute, crystalline standstill across every corner of the crowded surgical ward.
Two paces from the floor tiles, toddler Ash stood with his head tilted, his silver pupils expanding into twin whirlpools of ancient starlight.
