In a private chamber on the mining station
He hovers overhead, sitting crosslegged in midair, his eyes glowing, as he concentrates on something other than the forms and papers and video evidence the rest of the League is examining intently.
The edges fray. The centre cannot hold.
His eyes dim to normal levels, and he floats down to the table.
The presence watches us, and waits for us, and wants us here. This was not an accident.
The edges fray. The centre cannot hold.
His eyes dim to normal levels, and he floats down to the table.
The presence watches us, and waits for us, and wants us here. This was not an accident.