Northern watched with a subtle frown creasing his delicate olive features as the airship began its unholy change.
No. Change wasn't the right word. This felt more like a revealing—or perhaps a breaking free? Something was clawing its way out from within the metallic shell, desperate to escape the prison of steel and bolts.
The sight made Northern's lips curl downward. He could almost taste something bitter on his tongue.
A wide split tore across the bow, and pale crimson light bled from within. The light pulsed like a heartbeat, though far more unsettling than rhythmic.
The entire metallic body rippled. Steel turned to liquid, waves rolling across the surface.
Black tendrils stretched from the ship's core, each ending in white, pristine teeth built for crushing rather than tearing. The tendrils writhed in the air, still forming, still reaching.
