My hand goes to my knife. Nezavek catches my wrist, not physically but mentally.Not yet.
"She's exquisite, isn't she?" The Collector continues, moving to stand beside Melara. "I've preserved her perfectly. The fear, the hope, the moment of acceptance when she realized no one was coming. It's all there in the crystal. She'll never age, never decay, never lose that perfect expression of suffering."
"You're sick."
"I'm an artist. There's a difference." He waves his hand. "Would you like to see my art in motion?"
The victims begin to move.
Not freely. Their frozen bodies jerk like marionettes, limbs bending in ways crystal shouldn't bend. The woman captured mid-run starts actually running, her crystal legs pumping in place. The cowering man stands, turns toward us, and begins walking forward with horrible, grinding steps.
They're all moving now. Hundreds of crystallized people turning toward us with jerky, unnatural movements. Their faces don't change, still frozen in their final expressions, but their eyes are alive with terror at what their bodies are being forced to do.
"Stop," I say.
"But this is the best part. They can feel everything, you know. Every crack, every stress fracture as I make them move in ways crystal wasn't meant to bend. Sometimes they shatter completely, and I have to reassemble them. They feel that too."
The child with the teddy bear starts walking toward us. Each step makes a grinding sound. A crack appears in her leg, spreading up toward her knee. Her eyes beg me to help her, to stop this, to do something.
"Stop!" I shout.
"Make me."
The child raises the crystallized teddy bear like a weapon. Other victims close in, hands raised to strike, crystal fingers formed into claws. They don't want to. I see it in their eyes. But they have no choice.
"Don't hurt them," I tell Nezavek.
"I'll try not to."
The first wave reaches us. Nezavek's shadows expand, forming barriers, trying to push them back without damaging them. But crystal is brittle. A man's arm shatters when a shadow tendril pushes too hard. The pieces fall, and I see awareness in each fragment before they dissolve into dust.
I dodge a woman's grasping hands, but I can't bring myself to strike back. These are innocents. Victims. Some have been trapped here for decades.
"Having trouble?" The Collector asks. "They're already dead, you know. The crystallization killed them. I just kept their consciousness alive inside. Breaking them would be a mercy."
A teenager lunges at me, crystal fists swinging. I dodge, but he clips my shoulder. The impact cracks his hand. I see the agony in his eyes. Not from the crack but from being forced to attack at all.
More victims crowd in. Nezavek is forced to shatter three who get too close, his shadows cutting through crystal with surgical precision. Each one that breaks is a mercy, but also a horror. They dissolve into crystal dust, finally free but also finally dead.
"The artifact," I shout. "I need to find it."
"Go. I'll hold them."
I run, weaving between victims. Some try to grab me on the Collector's command. Others seem to resist, their movements slowing as I pass, their eyes begging me to end this.
The Soul-Still sits on a pedestal at the far end of the gallery. I don't know how I know it's there, but I do. The pull in my chest leads straight to it. The artifact is smaller than I expected. A sphere of impossible crystal that hurts to perceive directly. It pulses with its own light, and I hear whispers coming from it. Hundreds of voices, all pleading.
The Collector appears in front of me, reality bending to accommodate his movement.
"You can't destroy it," he says. "It's the anchor for this entire space. Shatter it, and everything here dissolves. Including your sister." His smile widens. "But you won't. I've seen your type before. You'll hesitate at the final moment, unable to truly kill her. And in that hesitation, the crystallization will complete, and then I’ll take you. Two sisters, preserved forever."
"Not happening."
I dodge his grasping hand, but ice forms beneath my feet. I slip, catch myself, keep moving. He's in front of me, then beside me, then behind me. The gallery itself bends to his will.
Nezavek's shadows slam into the Collector from behind, driving him back. "Go!"
I reach the pedestal. The Soul-Still hovers there, wrong and compelling. The moment my fingers touch it, voices flood my mind.
