The heavy steel vault door shuddered against its frame, a terrifying, deafening clang echoing in the pitch-black void.
The Seraphim was on the other side, and it was actively trying to beat the Cold War steel into scrap metal. The thick iron bowed slightly inward with a second, agonizing impact, dust raining down on the Faction in the dark. The locking mechanisms screamed, but the thick tumblers held. They were safe from the machine, but they were entirely blind.
Will forced his bleeding hands to unclench. He reached into his core, trying to scrape together just a single spark of aura to cast a light, but there was absolutely nothing left. He was barren, shivering in the cold, running purely on fumes and fractured adrenaline.
"I'm tapped," Will rasped, his voice sounding hollow in the dark. "Don't move. Let your eyes adjust."
Slowly, the absolute black began to recede, replaced by a sickly, pale blue bioluminescence.
