The fourth point of light on Alex's chest pulsed.
Just once.
And Alex smiled.
A different smile—carefree, of someone who had just discovered something with too many possibilities not to explore.
"Alex," said Seraph.
"Wait," said Alex.
He extended his right hand.
---
The F7 responded before Alex knew exactly what he was asking.
Not like the other three Fragments—the F1 required direction, the F4 required orientation, the F5 required specific intent. The F7 responded to will before the will fully formed. As if the Fragment anticipated what Alex was going to want and had it ready.
The reality around Alex's hand changed.
Not dramatically—the texture of the air thirty centimeters from his palm losing the certainty of being air, the spiritual plane of the immediate space responding to the F7 with the same ease it responded during transfer, but this time directed, intentional, obeying.
Alex closed his fist.
The texture returned.
