Luke smiled softly before reaching out his hand, he held a firm grasp on the orb.
A loud crunch emitted outwards from it, the orb shattered, its pieces fell, the floor now soaked in tiny glass like shards and a collection of wires strung across the pedestal like a modern work of art.
Lukes hand was still outreached, grasping a large chunk of luminous mirror that was once the orb.
The faces of the group grew paler, their lips pursed inwards and their eyes dried.
they spoke not a word nor a breath was exerted.
...
The box let out a scuffle of sounds, it was not the focus of the room yet it could have been a close contender, the reason why it emitted such noise was because of the performance just enacted before their eyes.
If not a performance then what could it have been?
The men that sat inside the box rushed down a nearby stairwell converting once well furnished room to a dystopian hell scape.