The transition through the portal felt like being dragged backward through deep water.
Ozone and raw static coated Elias's throat as his boots hit the polished steel floor of the inner containment block. The spatial tear snapped shut behind him with a violent crack, erasing the swirling vortex of colors and plunging the corridor into stark, clinical white light.
Junjio collapsed the moment the portal closed.
The boy hit the floor hard, gasping for air. Blood leaked from his right nostril, tracing a dark line over his pale lips. The multi-colored ring of his Ikona vanished entirely, retreating into his collarbone to preserve its depleted core. Wes dropped to one knee beside him, pulling the boy upright by the shoulder of his sleepwear.
"Breathe shallow," Wes instructed, keeping his own voice low. "Don't fight the nausea."
Elias pressed a hand to his ribs, waiting for the burning ache in his side to settle into a manageable throb. He scanned the High-Security Wing.
