The moment they burst out of the stomach,
the world became breath and heat and poison.
The air in the vast respiratory sac was thick enough to claw down their throats.
Yellow-gray vapor rolled in pulses from the breathing membranes,
each exhale a humid, corrosive blast that burned the skin.
The entire chamber expanded—
then collapsed in a violent shudder,
as if the creature couldn't decide whether to scream or breathe.
Caleb staggered, bracing a trembling hand against his knee.
The exhaustion from the Mirage still sat on him like chains.
His next breath came out as a ragged choke.
But when the fog thickened—dense enough to blind—
he forced both hands up.
Cold spilled from him.
A pale swirl gathered around his arms,
then shot forward in a spiraling torrent—
a white cyclone ripping into the toxic haze.
Temperature crashed.
The yellow vapor collapsed into glittering shards of frost,
raining in a thin, hissing curtain.
For a heartbeat, a narrow path of clearer air opened through the storm.
Caleb swayed violently.
His lips were blue.
His breath fogged.
He had nothing left.
A soft gold light rose behind him.
Marcus exhaled slowly, palms trembling as warm, earthen energy rushed outward.
Dusty ochre light gathered around the team,
coating their armor, their wounds, their bare skin in a fragile mineral shell.
It shimmered—like powdered amber sealing cracks in broken stone.
Neol's bleeding slowed the moment the glow touched him.
The pain in the others dulled just enough for them to stand straight.
Then the respiratory sac inhaled again.
Hard.
The force was enough to drag a human body into one of the giant alveoli sacs—
a death sentence.
But before Damian could react,
the entire floor vibrated.
A shockwave surged outward.
The airflow buckled—
then tore sideways,
snapped out of alignment by raw, immovable force.
Ethan didn't look like he'd done anything.
He stood with shoulders squared,
muscles rigid,
eyes fixed forward.
But the massive suction that should've consumed them
bled off toward the opposite wall,
slamming into membranes and bursting two sacs in a wet spray.
A second window.
The air twisted again as Damian's heat rippled outward,
evaporating fresh fog and forcing the sacs to recoil.
For the first time,
the chamber faltered.
Breath stuttered.
Sacs fluttered in confused rhythms.
The entire organ tried to pull itself together—
and failed.