The man exclaimed, his gaze fixed clearly on Nekra. Well, I suppose that's a normal reaction when you see her for the first time — after all, she has curved horns emerging from her head and an overall appearance that... let's just say, isn't exactly welcoming at first glance.
Her pale skin contrasted with intense eyes and that dark aura surrounding her didn't do much to soften the initial impression. The second voice, however, surprisingly came from a child — soft, almost charming in its innocence. Her eyes, now fixed admiringly on Althea's graceful figure, sparkled with pure fascination.
With a shy smile forming on her lips, the child murmured with an enchanted sigh: "So beautiful... like an angel"
Nyara, on the other hand, stayed pressed against my back, her small hand gripping the crumpled fabric of my loose shirt tightly. She hid behind me, curling her body as if I were a living wall, something capable of protecting her from everything out there.
Her breathing was light, almost silent, but I could feel her warmth through the contact, making it impossible to ignore her. The way she clung to me, so delicate and yet so desperately, only emphasized how vulnerable she felt at that moment. Of course, I didn't mind — Nyara was too cute for me to care.
***
(POV – Emily Parker)
Emily closely observed the visitors' expressions, a subtle smile playing at the corner of her lips. Just as she had predicted, the initial reactions to the anomalous objects were surprisingly lukewarm. The initial excitement gave way to growing boredom, noticeable in the vacant stares and the disinterest that began to take over the room.
Even Emily, who was always fascinated by these peculiarities, had to admit that, beyond a few occasional demonstrations of what those objects could really do, their shapes and appearances didn't spark human imagination as intensely as she had hoped.
As the thought crossed her mind, Emily instinctively shifted her gaze toward a specific spot in the crowd. Among the visitors, near the glass that separated the public from the anomalies, a woman stood out — gripping a microphone tightly, as if ready to go live on air.
Beside her, a man handled a high-definition camera with professional precision. Both were staring intently through the glass, their eyes wide and their faces a blend of surprise, fascination, and a hint of unease.
They weren't journalists from any major network, actually; they worked as independent producers, creating content for the internet, always alert to capture unusual moments for their viral videos.
Interestingly, they were husband and wife — a combination that, as unexpected as it seemed, gave the duo a unique identity, sparking even more interest among their fans. Of course, their charismatic looks helped draw attention, but without real and consistent skills, they probably wouldn't have achieved the huge success they had.
That's why Emily decided to call them over. Although not a formal agency, both enjoyed massive popularity within their niche, racking up millions of views on every video they released.
Those two people, who until then had displayed lukewarm and indifferent expressions, now stood before her with looks full of disbelief, surprise, and a hint of sharp curiosity. The scene had clearly turned Emily's day into something memorable.
But at that exact moment, Emily's smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. Her eyes quickly turned to the watch on her wrist, the minute hand moving mercilessly forward. Her face tightened completely, as if weighed down by an invisible worry.
Time was running out — Rupert and Victor should have sent some concrete update about what they had found. But their silence so far sliced through the air like a sharp blade, stirring a growing unease in Emily, who couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
"Laura" Emily called in a low but firm voice, without taking her attentive eyes off the softly glowing digital display before her.
Laura, aware of the situation, quickly activated the communicator strapped to her wrist, her fingers sliding precisely as she began reviewing the latest transmissions. The faint glow of the screen reflected on her focused face.
Next to her, Emily remained completely silent, her eyes fixed and intense on the visitors, who still seemed hypnotized — or perhaps perplexed — by the four enigmatic figures behind the glass.
The first anomaly stood out with its twisted horns and almost threatening posture, as if ready to attack at any moment, radiating an aura of raw, wild power. The second, on the other hand, radiated an almost angelic beauty, with delicate features and a soft glow that seemed to illuminate the surroundings, almost like an ethereal presence.
Finally, the third — shy and nearly invisible — curled up, clinging to the [Angel of Death] like a frightened child facing a world too loud for her fragile senses. Despite the strangeness of the scene, there was an unexpected feeling of calm and protection, as if, even amid chaos, a silent and safe refuge existed there.
"Nothing yet" Laura finally answered, frowning slightly with concern as her agile fingers glided over the holographic interface, which emitted a soft blue glow: "Their last response was about five minutes ago... after that, total silence"
She bit her lower lip nervously, her eyes locked on the data flickering rapidly before her, as if each piece held a hidden secret. She tried in vain to decipher some sign or pattern that could explain that unexpected and unsettling silence. A low, tense sigh escaped Emily, almost imperceptible but heavy with anxiety. This situation was definitely out of the ordinary.
"Order them to return immediately to the nearest rendezvous point" she commanded, keeping her voice calm but firm, her eyes hardening to reveal restrained concern: "And if there's no response within three minutes... send a containment team to the medical wing"
Laura nodded with a quick motion, her fingers already moving precisely over the keyboard as she typed the necessary commands. Emily, maintaining a neutral expression, discreetly turned to the side and grabbed the tablet clipped to her waist. With a quick tap, the screen lit up, revealing the sector's floor plan.
Her eyes scanned every inch of the map with trained focus — first the evacuation routes, then internal access points, maintenance tunnels, service passages. Finally, her gaze settled on the small rectangle marking the restroom area. That was it. The exact spot where the suspect had been seen entering.
At that moment, one of the communicators clipped to the uniforms emitted a sharp static, breaking the tense silence in the room. Rupert's voice finally came through the channel: "This is Rupert... we found the suspect in the bathroom. He's unconscious — no visible signs of breathing — but he's not dead. It's like he's caught between life and death... something close to a zombie state, I'd say. The pulse is barely there, way too slow to be normal. Honestly... his condition is weird. Really weird"
Rupert's voice carried obvious concern: "Victor's doing everything he can to stabilize him, but it's critical. We found something inside him... a creature, maybe a parasitic worm, but way more aggressive than anything we've seen before. Apparently, that thing is triggering the anomalous condition. It's rooted inside his body, like it was made for that"
There was a clear, almost tense worry in Rupert's voice. Emily closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to quiet the storm in her mind as she processed the seriousness of the situation. When she opened them again, her look was firm and determined: "Bring the man to the isolation ward" she ordered clearly: "I want a full analysis. Physical exams, neurological checks, anything that might point to anomalies. Don't miss a single detail... absolutely none"
She shot a quick glance at Laura, who was silently watching her with an unreadable expression: "Damn..." Emily murmured, barely moving her lips: "This situation's the worst possible..."
Her gaze drifted away for a moment, as if searching for answers in the void: "And worst of all, I have a suspicion..." she continued in a nearly inaudible whisper, more to herself than anyone else: "As absurd as it sounds, there's only one person I know who could act like this... always using indirect methods"
Laura furrowed her brow, initially confused. Emily's words sounded strange, disconnected — she just didn't get what her friend was trying to imply. But a moment of reflection, a quick dive into her memories, brought a familiar face into sharp focus, followed by a name forgotten for too long. Her heart quickened.
"Can't be..." she whispered, mostly to herself, as a shiver ran down her spine: "Wasn't he... dead?"
Hearing Laura's words, Emily let out a long sigh, the sound heavy with frustration and uncertainty. Her eyes narrowed slightly, reflecting growing skepticism, like she was fighting her own thoughts: "Yeah... or at least that's what I thought" she murmured, her voice thick with hesitation: "But no matter how much I try to think of another possibility, I can't imagine anyone else but him capable of doing something like this"
With that subtle thought, Emily turned back to the glass, where the [Angel of Death] sat motionless on the bed, still as a statue. Her eyes — dark and unfathomable — fixed on the visitors with a kind of apathetic attention, as if watching out of obligation rather than interest.
At that moment, a memory crossed Emily's mind like an ancient whisper. She had definitely been there the day the [Angel of Death] killed the former director Graham Vickers. The image was vivid: a dense, foggy shadow, with the ghostly form of the [Angel of Death], silently rising behind him.
In a sinister, almost ritualistic movement, that mist turned into a colossal snake, wrapped in a dark glow, which advanced without hesitation — and swallowed him whole. No screams. No resistance. Just the muffled sound of flesh being devoured and the silence that followed.
Though Emily knew deep down that what's dead should stay dead, a part of her insisted on believing that if it really was Graham Vickers, then — somehow obscurely, using an unknown method — he might have found a way to keep living.
***
(POV – Protagonist)
As the visitors watched us closely from the other side of the glass, a strange feeling ran through my body. It wasn't exactly a chill or a shiver — it was something more subtle, almost imperceptible. Premonition would be the right word? Maybe.
Anyway, the quiet certainty that something was about to happen settled in me like a muffled whisper in the back of my mind. The air seemed to change, as if denser for a moment, and my eyes, by reflex, slowly moved downward, toward the floor.
All I could see was the completely white, sterile surface, as clean and smooth as ever. Naturally, there was nothing there — after all, I didn't have any anomalous ability to see through objects or detect hidden presences. But still, something... something was different.
As I lost myself in my thoughts, a soft, delicate voice broke the silence behind me. It was Nyara, with her cute, almost indifferent tone, as if this were routine for her. Her calm voice echoed through the room: "The kids are saying it's about to start"
As always, when Nyara said "kids" she meant the latent chaos, an invisible and unpredictable force about to explode. But before I could fully understand what she was trying to communicate, something strange happened. It started almost imperceptibly, a detail so subtle many might miss it.
However, my senses were sharp, and I clearly noticed: one of the lights illuminating my room flickered briefly — for a fleeting instant, less than a second, too fast to be noticed by ordinary eyes.
But I wasn't human. And there was a certainty hammering in my mind: the lights in this facility should never flicker, not even for a moment. It was an unspoken rule, a thin line between control and chaos.
Just as that thought crossed my head, the lights flickered again — but this time, not a quick flash enough to go unnoticed. The wavering glow spread through the room, casting unsettling shadows on the walls and catching the attentive eyes of those present.
The humans on the other side of the glass sensed that oddness in the air. With confused, hesitant looks, they started exchanging glances, as if trying to find some answer or explanation on each other's faces. The tension was palpable, an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air.
I watched the scene for a few moments, feeling the weight of that uncertain atmosphere. Then, I turned my gaze to Emily. Her eyes clearly reflected the same apprehension — something was definitely wrong, and it showed in the tense expression that took over her face.