The first time Elias touched the gears, a spark jumped. It wasn't static; it felt like a cold needle stitching itself into his thumb.
Elias sat in the silence, his hands bleeding from the shards. He looked back at the mirror. His reflection was perfectly synced again. He looked tired. He looked old. He looked human. the devil in me
“Let him have it,” the Elias-part of his brain screamed. “He doesn't deserve the time he’s been given,” the Devil sang. The first time Elias touched the gears, a spark jumped