A realization struck him.
If Soul Siphon pulled soul energy from the air, and if soul energy was connected to life, then that meant air with no soul energy in it felt… dead.
Not poisonous or anything, just bland.
Like trying to breathe in a room that had the personality of a tax form.
"I'm breathing paperwork," Zayn muttered. "Fantastic."
Still, his hand was glowing again, energy pooling in his palm in greater amounts now that he'd done it before.
He didn't want to just fire another beam, though.
That was fun, but clearly dangerous for the local bird population.
What if — he thought — what if he shaped it instead?
Focused on it?
He closed his fingers slightly, cupping the energy.
This time, instead of pulling it in and releasing it outward like a laser, he concentrated on making the soul energy stay, harden, take form.
His hand began to hum.
The energy started to condense, a faint shimmer dancing along his wrist and knuckles.
It felt like molding warm clay.
