The subterranean chamber fell into a heavy, suffocating silence as the green emergency lanterns flickered weakly against the shattered granite columns.
Supreme Mandra Taziraka leaned his broad back against the stone pillar, coughing up a thick globule of black alchemical bile onto the flooded floor.
Sagiri knelt beside the imperial ruler, pressing his palm gently against the Mandra's chest to channel a steady stream of soothing cellular warmth.
The silver currents of the Archive permeated the imperial meridians, stabilizing the bruised tissue around his spine where the needles had been torn out.
"Breathe slowly," Sagiri instructed in a quiet, steady voice, keeping his right hand grounded against the imperial ribcage.
"The alchemical venom has been purged from your blood, but your nerves will remain numb for several minutes."
Taziraka exhaled a long, ragged breath, his noble dark-brown eyes sweeping across the ruined cryogenic tanks and shattered Grey Enforcers.
