The Shattered Coins
Gpin exhaled sharply through their nose, a chill in the sound. The air between words turned stiff. Silence followed, heavy like frost on stone.
A crack through the air, laced with something stiff-backed. It cut without warning.
A sudden twist of his hand sent old copper coins spinning upward. High above, they broke apart - each tumbling piece catching the glow from the hanging lights below.
Breath caught in throats across the room.
A sudden flicker raced through Gpin's fingertips just as the coins began to drop. With movements sharp and precise, his palms snapped shut in an intricate pattern - joints locked tight, blood vessels rising like threads beneath the surface.
"Rise."
From his throat came a quiet sound, yet it held firm control.
Midway through their rise, the sixty-four copper coins stopped.
They trembled.
A hush fell before they started turning, drifting into a ring shape, their dim light pulsing like something breathing after long stillness.
