Moss lies restrained in the modification chamber, dermal patches on his chest, as monitoring arms cast long shadows.Sūrya leans forward in the advisory rail seat, her profile stark against the sterile green light, as Arhat argues below.Sūrya presses her palms against the cold glass, watching Moss on the modification chair, her expression calm yet distant.Moss's modified hand grips a polished metal plate, reflecting his new face, the sterile room pressing in.Moss lies still on the medical platform, Sūrya standing beside him, hand at her ear, the room's sterility emphasized by deep shadows.Arhat stands at the center, delivering a speech, while Dhruv sits in the dimmest chair, hands resting, eyes alert.Arhat sits centered, flanked by allies, their faces half-lit, half-shadowed, in the cool, white light of the Council chamber.Moss lies still on the modification chair, dermal patches glowing against his inflamed skin, monitoring arms casting deep shadows.Sūrya's pale hands press against the glass, her eyes fixed on Moss lying still under the sterile light.Moss sits composed on the medical platform, his amber-streaked eyes reflecting the pale light, hand resting on the polished metal plate.
