I stand there in confusion.
Alone.
No air. No sound. Just weightless stillness pressing in from every side.
Then.
A voice.
Whispers to me like it's crawling along the back of my neck.
"Fall."
That's all it says.
But it says it into me. Not in my ears. Inside my bones.
I don't have time to think. My body moves without permission.
I start falling.
Not fast. Just… downward. Like something yanked the floor away and left nothing but gravity's hands.
I fall for what feels like forever. Then
Stop.
Mid-air, hanging, floating and still.
No impact. No sound.
I look around, slow, unsettled. Everything is void. Dead black. Like the world just stopped getting drawn after a certain point.
Except, one thing.
A faint light in the distance. Small. Focused. Cold.
I drift toward it.
It grows. Not brighter, just closer.
Then I see it.
A child with his head down.
Kneeling.
Not moving.
White hair matted with blood. Head tilted forward like it gave up on holding itself up.
His arms are bound behind his back, crushed and coiled by something wrong. It's not rope. It's muscle. But not his. It looks torn out of something else. Flesh-twisted cords, knotted with splinters of tooth and nail. Still twitching.
His knees are jammed into jagged glass, melted into the floor. Crystals of it stick through his shins like he was forced to kneel and then fused there. No blood drips. It already dried.
And his spine...
Gone from his back. It's ripped out.
But not removed.
It's wrapped around his neck like a leash. A noose of bone. You can see the flesh trail where it was torn from his body, stitched to the air like a dead man's scarf. His ribs are open. Hollowed out. But he's still upright. Still breathing.
"Took you long enough..." the child mutters without lifting his head.
"…Me?" I ask, my voice low. Detached.
"No, me," he snaps, suddenly raising his head. His face is pale. Eyes like tempered metal rage held behind glass. "Obviously, you dumbass."
I blink. "…Are you okay?"
A beat of silence.
"Yeah." He says it too fast. Too bitter. Then under his breath, "God, I hate these brats…"
He yanks his head toward me like a rabid dog hearing footsteps.
"You're number what now? Five? Six? Ten? Doesn't matter. You're just another fucking cracked shell they shove me into, hoping I'll do something useful for once."
I don't answer.
He keeps going. "The others couldn't even speak to me. Couldn't handle it. Little worms. One jumped off a bridge. Another burned himself. Pathetic."
His wrists twitch behind him, yanking at the fleshcords holding him down. They tighten. Dig in deeper. Like they're punishing him for remembering.
"You're the first one strong enough to touch this place without dissolving."
He grins. But there's no joy in it. Only teeth. "Lucky you."
"…What are you?" I ask.
His smile fades. "I was something. Before this cage. Before this leash. Before you."
He lets the word you drip like venom. Like I'm a sickness he can't expel.
"I had a name once. You started calling me Bonecord. Fitting, isn't it? But the name I went by... The one that tore the the Cradle and the world... was Zyvoss."
The air hums when he says it. Like it doesn't want to hold the sound.
"You're... Zyvoss," I repeat.
He nods once. "Say it again, and I'll implode your soul."
I shut up.
"You're not special," he continues. "You just happened to be there. Just happened to survive when I tried to break the seal. Lucky little freak."
More silence. It's heavy. Not awkward, hostile.
He speaks again, quieter now. "You are different, though. Stronger than the rest. Your soul didn't let me in. Not fully. I tried to take over and you shoved me out like I was some insect.
His breathing hitches, shallow and slow. Not from fear. From fury.
"I want out," he says. "I want out of this goddamn puppet. This flesh coffin. I want my spine back. I'll slaughter the ones who put me here. I'll to burn their name out of time itself."
His voice shakes now. Starved.
"And if you're smart, you'll let me do it."
He leans forward, dragging the corded muscle binding him. It creaks like leather stretched over bone.
"Because if you don't," he says, voice low and too close, "I'll rot inside you. And you'll feel it. Every hour. Every breath. Like something dead lodged in your veins."
I don't answer.
He tilts his head. The spine coiled around his throat twitches like it's gagging on laughter. "I've been there since the start. Since your first crawl. Since your first scream. I know how much your life's been worth."
He grins. It's not a grin meant for a human face, too wide, too split, too wrong.
"You finally caught a break. All because some rich bastard saw me latched to your arm. That wasn't you. That was me."
I stare at him.
"…So?"
His grin falters just a bit.
"You think I give a shit about any of that?" I say. "You think I'm scared to lose it? That I'm gonna kneel for a taste of peace?" I shake my head. "I'm not scared of starving again."
He laughs. A nasty, snapping sound, like his throat cracked open with it.
"Endo was right," he mutters. "You really are different. You're a freak"
The air grows thick. Heavy. Bloodlust bleeds off him like steam off boiling meat. It stinks of murder.
"I'll make it simple," he says. "You get all of me. Every shred of hate, every tooth, every curse I've buried under your skin."
"…Why would I need it?."
"To kill Reapers."
I blink once. "Why."
"So I can feed. So I can get strong enough to leave this fucking prison."
His whole body shudders against the restraints, bones rattling like chains.
"And then… then you'll hunt down the ones that did this to me. The ones who buried me in you."
His tone doesn't rise. It descends. Gets colder. Older. Carved with fury from another era.
"You'll tear them apart. Rip them open. Bone by bone. Thought by thought. Until there's nothing left but ash and agony."
The restraints creak again. His grin splits wider. Something behind his teeth moves.
"Sound fair?"
I stand there. Watching.
Power. Power to fight. Power to kill.
I need to kill those damn beasts. For Silas.Why me?Power's always good, right? Can't go wrong...But killing Reapers? That's not possible. Is it?
What do I say?
What do I do?
If I have power, I could become a Tithe. Kill Residuum for money. Live easy.But this thing with Silas... it's sick.
I can't think straight.
My head keeps looping the same questions. Like a glitch. Like I'm stuck.
Zyvoss doesn't move. Doesn't blink. Just stares. Waiting. Smiling like he already knows.
Then he speaks.
"You gonna sit there trembling all day? I won't wait forever, boy. You'll wake up soon. I won't be here when you do."
I don't answer. Just keep pacing in my mind. Spiraling.
This is too much. Too fast.
He's offering everything. Everything I never had.But there's always a catch. There has to be.And once I say yes... I can't undo it.
Minutes pass. Hours maybe. I don't even know anymore.
He sighs. The sound is thick with irritation.
"Time's up."
I snap.
"Fine," I mutter. "You win. I don't care. Just... do it."
Zyvoss doesn't smile.
He uncoils. Slow. Heavy. Glass crunches under him as he rises from his knees, bone scraping metal. His restraints slither behind him, twitching like they're starving.
He steps toward me once. The ground pulses.
Something's wrong. The air's breaking. Sound warps, light flickers. My head spins. I feel the pull—my body, somewhere far, clawing me back.
Zyvoss leans close.
Too close.
His voice slides under my skin.
"Feed me bones."
A convulsion. Air tears into my lungs like a scream.
Metal table. Burned skin. Scorch marks across the walls. The lab's wrecked—torn cables, glass shards, a smell like cooked flesh and melting wire.
The room's still smoldering.
I'm back.
And I said yes.