Chapter 6 · Caged Seed

"Stop squirming, you little freak, or I’ll poke a hole right through your center," Lyra snapped.

Her voice was like a whip, and the cold steel of a containment probe was currently pressing into my gelatinous side. I wasn't squirming—I was trying to survive. Being a Shadow Seed meant I was basically a sentient oil spill with an appetite, and right now, I was trapped in a reinforced glass cylinder that smelled like ozone and clinical indifference.

I lunged forward, my shadowy form snapping against the glass. I didn't have a mouth, but if I did, I would've been snarling.

"Oh, look at that. It’s got spirit," Lyra murmured. She leaned in, her face inches from the glass. I could see the gold flecks in her eyes and the slight, mocking curve of her lips.

She was wearing a leather combat rig that looked like it had seen a few wars, and she smelled like gunpowder and something sweet—like vanilla masking the scent of blood.

"Most Seeds just dissolve into a puddle of grief when they hit the containment field. You’re actually trying to eat the glass. Cute."

I slammed myself against the wall again.