Then a click sounded, soft but final. The ninety-nine Soul Anchors connected on their own.
Each hair became a small tendon that strengthened with each strand of energy it absorbed.
The soul recognized the change and made the Soul Anchors its own. The sand-like soul hardened into clay.
The clay shifted into something akin to gold, soft and malleable, able to be shaped without breaking.
This was what made the artificial constitution special. It did not only hold the soul. It gave the soul a new framework it could grow around.
The ghost attendants rotated, each infusing their soul energy for another hour. When the trembling eased to a steady pulse, he deemed it stable enough.
"Let go of the soul, Calyx," Radeon said.
The soul descended into the machine body. The arrays inside the steel shell revved to life.
Hundreds of them woke in sequence, lines of power crawling through the frame like veins filling with blood.
