The Guild Hall smelled of antiseptic and burnt wiring. Jonathan pressed a hand to his bandaged ribs. Three fractures from where the Beetle Tyrant had thrown him into rubble. Around the war room's obsidian table, hunters argued over scattered reports, their voices edged with exhaustion.
Lilith shoved a cracked data slate across the table. "That thing wasn't just attacking," she said, her pink braid slipping over her shoulder. "It was hunting with purpose. Took out our healers first, collapsed the east exit second."
Jonathan's fingers twitched against his ribs. He'd seen it too. How the Tyrant's faceted eyes had tracked specific hunters, how it moved with terrifying precision.
Then the words appeared in his vision, glowing faintly:
[ABNORMAL ENERGY PATTERN DETECTED]
[SOURCE: UNKNOWN]
The voice that answered wasn't the System's usual monotone. It was richer, darker. "They scurry about, never seeing the web around them."
At dawn, Jonathan trained alone in the yard, fists pounding a dented dummy. Each strike sent pain flaring through his ribs, but he welcomed it. Pain kept him present. Kept him human.
Then a flicker. The dummy's leather face twisted for a split second, becoming his mother's gaunt features before snapping back.
Jonathan staggered back. The System's display glitched:
[RECALIBRATING...]
[ANOMALY DETECTED]
The dark voice purred, "The cracks are spreading. How long until you fall through?"
Chloe cornered him in the locker room after drills. Her left pupil blown wide from a recent concussion. "Evelyn's got medics in her pocket," she whispered, shoving a water bottle at him. "Smell it."
Jonathan didn't need to. The alert burned in his vision:
[TOXIN DETECTED: JASMINE-9]
[COUNTERMEASURES: UNAVAILABLE]
He dumped the water, but Chloe grabbed his wrist. "I'm not your scared little shadow anymore," she said, her grip stronger than he remembered. "Let me help."
For the first time, he really looked at her. The new scar along her jaw. The way she held herself now, like someone who knew how to take a hit.
That night, Jonathan dreamed of his mother's hands, warm as they brushed his hair. Then the dream twisted.
Her fingers elongated. The bed became cold stone.
"You fight so hard," the dark voice murmured through his mother's lips. "For what? A few more days of suffering?"
The walls pulsed like a living thing.
"Let me make the pain stop."
Jonathan woke to screaming.
He found his mother at the window, moonlight glinting off the dark streaks where she'd clawed her arms.
"Jonny," she whispered. But her voice was layered, distorted.
Then she collapsed.
The alert seared his vision:
[VESSEL SYNCHRONIZATION: 12%]
[COUNTERMEASURES: LOCKED]
His hands shook. Not from fear of the voice.
From how badly part of him wanted to say yes.
What choice will Jonathan make regarding his mother's condition, and what will be the immediate fallout of that decision?