The rain had stopped by dawn. The city outside looked deceptively calm—glimmering steel, wet pavement, and a haze of neon reflected on puddles. But inside the lab, the air was still electric, thick with the aftertaste of energy that didn't belong in this world.
Lin had shut down every visible system, disconnected power lines, even pulled manual fuses from the core grid. Still, the lights flickered faintly every few seconds, like something unseen was breathing through the circuits.
Keller sat beside Hana's bed, exhaustion written across his face. He hadn't moved since the night before, afraid that if he blinked, she might disappear again.
She was awake now—weak, pale, but alive. Her fingers twitched occasionally, tracing invisible lines in the air. Lin noticed it first.
"She's drawing," he said quietly, eyes narrowing. "But there's nothing there."
Keller looked at her hands. "Hana?" he asked gently. "What are you seeing?"
