Michael did not hesitate. His fingers closed around the final orb, then he crushed it.
Just like before, it did not shatter. It dissolved. A burst of color exploded outward, brighter than the last. The swirling smoke twisted violently, layers upon layers folding into each other as if something inside was struggling to take form.
Michael's eyes locked onto it as the colors shifted rapidly. Red. Gold. Blue. Then they slowed before stabilising into a deep, vivid green that carried a strange sense of vitality, almost like something alive.
Michael frowned slightly. "…Green?"
He wondered if the colours meant anything, but he did not dwell on it.
The smoke compressed, condensed, and then instead of forming a weapon or armor, it flattened.
A thin glowing object appeared in midair.
A parchment. Golden and radiant, covered in faint inscriptions that seemed to shift whenever he tried to focus on them.
Michael's eyes narrowed. "…A paper?"
