“What does that mean?” Gemma asked when the doctor seemed to fall into a trail of thought.
“It means it likely experienced a localized energy field.”
She stared at him. “I still don’t get it.”
The man sighed a loud breath. “The energy given off by the molecules—I assume you know what those are—warped the stone at a structural level. You don’t get that from time or weather. You get that from power.”
“Because I touched it,” Gemma said.
“Maybe . . .” He tapped his chin. “Or maybe because it touched you back.”
Gemma stared at him as the weight of those words set in. A prickling heat rose beneath her skin, fast and acidic. Her hands, clenched unconsciously at her sides, trembled. She wanted to laugh or scream or run. Instead, she just stood there, blinking too fast, her throat thickening as her heartbeat clambered in her ears.
That wasn’t how it had happened. She’d reached for the orb. She’d made the choice . . . hadn’t she? The memory was fractured, blurred around the edges. She remembered the carvings, the light, the pain. Freezing pain. Something searing and alive.
It hadn’tlether touch it.
It hadaskedher to.
She wrapped her arms around herself as her stomach twisted, bile creeping up her throat.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered. “I just remember . . . I thought it was me touching it.”
Doctor Liebher didn’t even look up from his scanner. “Mm. Fascinating.” He raised his voice. “Manae! Eddings! Bring the isotope panel and the molecular filters. We’ve got a site to match.”
Gemma’s head snapped toward him, but he was already crouched near the chalice, rattling off commands like she wasn’t even there. A handful of scientists rushed over with portable equipment, slipping past her without so much as a glance. One of them bumped her shoulder and muttered a half-hearted apology, more focused on the data unfolding from their electropad.
“Baseline does match the energy profile in her blood,” one of them said.
“I want this whole radius scanned. See if it left a signature imprint in the surrounding lattice,” Doctor Liebher instructed.
Gemma stepped back, her breath catching. She was still trying to process what it meant—that the orb had touched her, chosen her, altered her—and they were already moving on.
Gunner approached her slowly, his expression unreadable. “You okay?”
Gemma didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. Her chest felt too tight, her skin too hot.
They were already studying the stone. Soon, they’d be studying her.
Unwilling to wait for the team, Christian sprinted through the winding streets of Perileos to his family home deep in the outskirts. Most of the city’s inhabitants didn’t pay him any mind, despite the early hour of the morning. Twice, Ahna had tried to contact him through his specialized SARTF earpiece, but he couldn’t waste a single breath. Already his lungs burned with every intake of recycled air, and if he had any chance of getting to his dad and sister before the Falaichte, he needed to stay at peak speed.
For once, he was thankful for his four years of “hunts” on the planet’s surface.
Christian made the sharp turn that led straight to his house, kicking over a bag of trash. It exploded, flinging waste across the ground. He swore, making a mental note to clean that up once he ensured his family was safe.
At last, the small flat in which he grew up came into view. The single window at the front was dark, and his chest clenched. What if he was too late?
He shook the thought loose. A dark home didn’t mean anything. They could just be asleep.
Christian slammed into the door frame of his former home and held his palm against the lock pad. It flashed red.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Of course it didn’t work. He technically didn’t live here anymore.
He repeatedly pounded on the door as hard as he could. If he woke any neighbors, he didn’t give a shit.
“Come on, come on. Please be in there,” he mumbled under his rapid breaths. Sweat rolled down the sides of his neck. His legs felt like they’d buckle at any minute. And his chest still fell and rose rapidly with the weight of his marathon run.
