Chapter 17:
Horn and Halo
Darkness.
Not the comforting kind that comes before sleep, nor the temporary shadow of a passing cloud. This was absolute. Consuming. It pressed against my eyeballs like physical weight, filled my nostrils with the scent of damp earth and something metallic. Like old blood on rusted iron. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, parched and swollen. For one terrifying moment, I wondered if I'd gone blind.
Then, I saw a light.
A single pulse. Crimson and sluggish, throbbing like an infected wound. It illuminated nothing, only made the shadows deeper where it didn't reach. My retinas burned with afterimages as the darkness swallowed it again.
Another pulse. Closer this time.
I gasped, my body jerking forward on instinct before being wrenched back by something cold and unyielding around my wrists. Metal. Cuffs, their edges serrated like predator's teeth. They bit into my skin as I struggled, drawing thin lines of blood that trickled warm down my palms. The coppery scent joined the other odors in the thick air.
"Easy."
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, vibrating through the floor beneath me, the air around me. It wasn't loud. That was the worst part. It was calm. Almost kind. Like a parent soothing a frightened child.
The Shepherd.
I blinked rapidly as my vision swam into focus. The room, if this cavernous nightmare could be called a room, stretched into impossible shadows in every direction. The walls weren't stone or concrete, but something organic, veined with pulsating cords of flesh and machine that throbbed in time with that terrible red light. They glistened wetly, strands of viscous fluid stretching between them like spider's silk when they moved.
Above me, the ceiling arched into jagged points that reminded me of the ribcage of some enormous beast, long dead but still standing. The air hummed with energy, a subsonic vibration that made my teeth ache and my stomach churn.
And at the center of it all...
The hive.
It dominated the space, suspended in a grotesque web of cables and organic tendrils that twitched with independent life. Its surface shifted constantly, like a living Rorschach blot, one moment a grotesque parody of a human heart, swollen and diseased. The next something more mechanical, all sharp angles and blinking lights beneath a thin membrane of skin. Dark fluid pumped through visible arteries, the rhythm erratic like a dying man's heartbeat.
The Shepherd stood beside me, close enough that I could smell the antiseptic clinging to his clothes, undercut by something sweetly rotten. His hands were clasped behind his back in a mockery of military rest, his posture relaxed. He didn't bother restraining me beyond the cuffs. Why would he? Where could I possibly go?
"Where are the others?" My voice came out shredded, each word scraping my throat raw. I tasted blood.
"Alive." He didn't turn to look at me. His eyes, still disturbingly human amidst the ruin of his face, remained fixed on the hive. "For now."
I yanked against the cuffs with all my strength, the metal teeth grinding against bone. White-hot pain shot up my arms, but I welcomed it.
"If you hurt them—"
"I don't want to hurt them." He turned then, and in the pulsing red light, I saw the veins beneath his skin writhe like worms in fresh soil. "I don't want to hurt you, either."
A laugh tore from my throat, sharp and broken. "Could've fooled me."
The Shepherd didn't react. Just stepped closer to the hive, his fingers—too long, the nails blackened and cracked—brushing against one of the thicker tendrils. It responded instantly, coiling around his digit like a lover's embrace, the veins beneath its surface flaring brighter where they made contact.
"You still don't understand," he said, his voice taking on that terrible dual-toned quality again. One part human, one part something that vibrated in my molars. "ZERA isn't what you think it is. It's not just a weapon. It's not just a plague." He turned fully to face me now, and in his eyes I saw genuine conviction. "It's a gift."
I spat at his feet. The glob of saliva and blood landed on his boot, quivering in the uneven light.
The Shepherd sighed, the sound full of the weary patience of a parent dealing with a tantrum-throwing child. Then, without another word, he reached for the hive.
The moment his fingers made contact, the room shifted.
The walls peeled back with a wet, tearing sound, the veins parting like stage curtains to reveal rows upon rows of... people.
No. Not people. Not anymore.
Their bodies hung suspended in the same web as the hive, limbs limp, heads lolling at unnatural angles. Their skin had gone translucent, stretched tight over bones that seemed too sharp, the veins beneath glowing faintly in the rhythmic pulses of light. Their eyes were all open, pupils blown wide and unseeing, reflecting the crimson glow like animals caught in headlights.
And their mouths...
Their mouths were moving.
Some whispered soundlessly, lips forming words I couldn't hear. Others screamed, their faces contorted in silent agony. A few simply mouthed the same phrase over and over, their tongues black and swollen.
I recoiled so violently the chair beneath me screeched against the floor. Bile rose hot and acidic in my throat. "What the fuck—"
"Consciousnesses," the Shepherd said, his voice taking on an almost reverent tone. He reached out to trail his fingers along one of the suspended bodies. A woman with dark hair that floated around her face as if underwater. "Preserved. Perfectly. They're part of the network now. Part of me."
I twisted in the cuffs, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps that didn't bring enough oxygen. The edges of my vision darkened.
"You're keeping them? Like—like batteries?"
"No." He sounded genuinely offended. Stepped closer to another suspended figure. A man this time, his chest cavity split open to reveal writhing tendrils where his organs should be. "I'm saving them. The infection would have burned through their minds eventually. This way, they live forever."
The words hit me like a physical blow. My stomach heaved, acid burning my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the nightmare, but the afterimages remained burned onto my retinas.
Then I saw her.
Rina.
She was smaller than the others, her slight frame nearly swallowed by the mass of tendrils wrapped around her. They cradled her like a grotesque parody of a mother's embrace, some penetrating her skin at the temples, the wrists, the base of her throat. Her eyes were closed, her expression almost peaceful, like she was sleeping.
But her lips were moving.
Just like the others.
"No." The word slipped out unbidden, barely more than a whisper.
The Shepherd followed my gaze.
"Ah. You recognize her."
Something inside me snapped. I lunged against the cuffs with all my strength, ignoring the way the metal teeth sawed into my flesh, the warm trickle of blood down my arms.
"Let her go!"
"I can't." He sounded almost apologetic. "She's part of the network now. But you—" He reached for me, his fingers hovering just above my temple. I could feel the heat radiating from them, smell the antiseptic and rot clinging to his skin. "You could see her. Talk to her. Just let me—"
I jerked back with enough force to send the chair skittering, my skull cracking against the metal frame. Stars exploded across my vision.
"Don't touch me!"
The Shepherd's hand dropped. For the first time, something like real frustration flickered across his ruined face.
"You're being childish."
"And you're a monster."
We stared at each other in the pulsing red light, the hive's wet, rhythmic sounds filling the silence between us. Somewhere in the rows of suspended bodies, someone was sobbing.
Finally, the Shepherd turned back to the hive.
"Fine," he said, his voice gone cold. "If you won't listen, then see."
He pressed his palm flat against the hive's glistening surface.
And the world exploded.
***
Pain.
Not the sharp, clean pain of a blade or bullet. This was deeper. Slower. It oozed through my veins like molten lead, burning its way along nerve endings, searing pathways into my skull, my chest, the marrow of my bones.
I tried to scream. My vocal cords strained, but no sound emerged. My body arched against the cuffs, muscles locking so tight I heard something pop in my shoulder.
Images.
A lab. White walls so bright they hurt my eyes. The smell of antiseptic and ozone. The Shepherd—younger, his face unmarked by ZERA's corruption, his eyes bright with something between excitement and fear—standing over a containment unit. Inside, something dark and viscous shifted restlessly, throwing itself against the glass with dull thuds.
"It's perfect," he whispered, his breath fogging the containment glass.
Flash.
A needle glinting in sterile light. His own arm bared, the vein standing proud beneath pale skin. The plunge of the syringe. The way his pupils dilated as the first black vein split his skin, crawling up his arm like a living tattoo.
Flash.
A city in ruins. Buildings crumbling like sandcastles. Bodies in the streets, their faces frozen in final screams. The Antlers moving in perfect synchronization, their glowing eyes casting long shadows.
Flash.
The hive, growing. Spreading. Sending out tendrils like roots through concrete and steel.
Learning.
And then...
Me.
Standing in the ruins, my hands glowing with that same terrible light, but different. Brighter. Cleaner. The Antlers flinching back from me like I was fire. Like I was death.
The Shepherd's voice, whispering from everywhere and nowhere: "You're the key."
I wrenched myself back with a gasp that tore at my lungs, the vision shattering like glass. Sweat poured down my face, mingling with the blood from my split lip where I'd bitten through it.
The Shepherd was watching me, his expression unreadable in the pulsing light.
"Now do you understand?"
I was shaking so badly my teeth chattered. My vision blurred with unshed tears. "You're insane."
"No." He stepped closer, his movements smooth and predatory. "I'm right. ZERA was never meant to destroy. It was meant to evolve. To bring humanity into something greater." His fingers brushed my cheek, leaving trails of burning cold where they touched. "And you—you're the missing piece."
I recoiled as far as the cuffs would allow. "I'll never help you."
The Shepherd sighed, long and suffering. Then he turned to the hive.
"Bring her."
The tendrils moved.
They unspooled from the hive with wet, tearing sounds, slithering across the floor like serpents. I kicked out, my boot connecting with one, but it simply wrapped around my ankle and pulled. More came, wrapping around my legs, my waist, my chest. They were warm. Alive.
I thrashed, my screams echoing off the cavernous walls, but it was no use. They dragged me forward, inch by terrible inch, toward the hive, toward the heart of it all.
Toward Rina.
The Shepherd's voice followed me, soft and certain.
"You will."
And then the hive opened, a yawning maw of glistening flesh and sparking wires.
And it swallowed me whole.