Terminal Prime

There is a sharp, sudden pain as something incorporeal pierces my palm. Colour floods the scaffold as gold, glass, and the crimson of my own blood merge and freeze within its delicate crystal lattice. I feel lightheaded, as if the machine has absorbed some part of my being.

C R Y S T A L L A T T I C EP R O P A G A T I N G ... M U L T I T U D E S