Tending the sigil fields, Runel

Working a small knife along the seam, Creavo deftly wedged the hard shell open. As the red skin split a silvery light spilled out, only to fade just as suddenly. He lifted the husk above his head and let the bright liquid, fading now to black, drip into the urn at his feed.

Retimale, watching, chuckled. “No luck for you today, softworlder!”