Silence.
It wasn't the kind you could escape, or ignore, or fill with thoughts.
It was the kind that settled on your skin
like frost.
Thin.
Heavy.
Unmoving.
The transport chamber hummed around me, carrying me somewhere beneath the Academy.
I didn't know how far.
I couldn't see outside.
The walls had gone opaque the moment Aris activated the full seal.
A dim blue glow came from the restraints, casting cold shadows across the inside of the tube.
My wrists tingled.
My instincts felt… muffled.
Like someone had placed a hand over my heart and told it not to beat too loudly.
I exhaled slowly.
The air tasted recycled.
Filtered.
Emotionless.
Somewhere above me—
on the surface—
in a ruined medbay—
Horace was fighting to stay awake.
Rowan was crying into Chandler's shirt.
Lucian was preparing to do something that would cost him everything.
And me?
I was sinking.
Literally.
The chamber descended on rails I couldn't see, humming through walls I couldn't touch.
Containment.
I whispered the word to myself just to hear something human.
But it tasted like iron in my mouth.
THE RIDE DOWN
The chamber slowed after what felt like minutes—
or maybe hours.
Time didn't work right inside this tube.
The restraints pulsed again.
A soft tone rang in the chamber:
"Prime subject approaching Isolation Wing."
My stomach clenched.
Another tone followed:
"Initiating psychological neutrality."
A faint mist hissed around my ankles.
I stepped back instinctively—
but the restraints held.
"No," I whispered.
"No, no, no—please don't—"
"Neutrality mist is harmless. This is standard procedure."
It wasn't harmless.
It numbed everything.
Not fully—
but enough that I felt the edges of my instinct dulling.
My awareness thinning.
Like my body was still mine—
but my reactions weren't.
My throat tightened.
"Stop," I whispered hoarsely.
"Please stop."
The chamber didn't respond.
My legs shook.
For a moment—
just one—
I felt like I was sinking into myself.
Like the floor had dropped out.
My vision blurred.
My breath came thin.
I closed my eyes
and imagined the one scent my instincts always recognized first.
Warm spice.
A quiet pull.
A steady heartbeat.
Horace.
The chamber didn't take him from me completely.
Not yet.
MEANWHILE — THE MEDBAYHorace cannot stay still.
Lucian practically threw himself over Horace's chest as Horace tried to push himself upright again.
"Horace—STOP—your ribs are fractured—sit DOWN—!!"
Horace snarled—a sound Lucian had never heard from him before.
"Let. Me. Go."
"You're delirious—"
"I'm not."
Horace grabbed Lucian's collar weakly, breath shaking.
"You're taking her away."
Lucian froze.
"Horace—listen to me—she's not dying—she's still conscious—she's—"
Horace shoved him again, but the movement was weak, trembling.
His breathing was a mess—
shallow gasps, too fast, too desperate.
"She's scared," Horace rasped.
"I feel it—I feel her—she's going numb—LET ME GO—"
Lucian placed both hands on Horace's shoulders.
"Horace—
you moving won't bring her back."
Horace's throat tightened.
His eyes glassed over with pain.
"But she needs me," he whispered.
And then—so quietly Lucian almost missed it:
"I can't lose her. Not her. Not her too."
Lucian froze.
"Horace… what did you just say?"
Horace looked away.
Lucian's voice softened.
"You've lost someone before."
Horace didn't answer.
But his silence was enough.
LATER — ROWAN'S PANIC
Rowan sat against Chandler's chest on one of the medbay beds.
Chandler wiped Rowan's tears gently.
Rowan's voice shook with every breath.
"She's gone…
her scent is fading…
Chandler… Chandler, her scent is gone—"
"It's not gone," Chandler murmured softly.
He cupped Rowan's cheeks, wiping new tears with his thumbs.
"She's just far away. But she's still here. She's alive."
Rowan shook his head violently.
"I can't feel her. I can't feel her at all."
He pressed both hands to his chest like he was trying to breathe through something crushing him.
"I feel wrong… I feel empty… I feel—"
Chandler pulled him into his lap again.
"Shh—come here—come here—look at me—"
Rowan cried harder.
"I'm sorry—I'm sorry—I shouldn't be this weak—I'm trying, Chandler, I'm trying—"
Chandler squeezed him tighter.
"You're not weak, Rowan. Stop saying that. You've been holding everything together for weeks. Let yourself fall apart. I've got you."
Rowan trembled.
"But I want her back."
Chandler pressed a kiss to his forehead.
"I know.
We'll get her back."
His voice was too calm.
Too even.
Rowan sniffled.
"You promise?"
Chandler swallowed hard.
"Yeah," he whispered.
Because he already knew:
He'd promised something reckless.
And he didn't care.
BACK IN THE CHAMBER — ARRIVAL
A low thud signaled we'd reached bottom.
The mist stopped.
The restraints dimmed.
The door slid open with a soft hiss.
Cold air rushed in.
And I stepped out into—
A hallway lined with glass rooms.
Not cells.
But not rooms either.
Observation chambers.
Each one empty.
Each one too clean.
A voice echoed above:
"Prime subject: Elleanore Fonze. Proceed to Chamber A-01."
Two operatives stood waiting.
One gestured.
"This way."
I took a step—
and felt my legs wobble.
The mist still clung to my lungs.
My mind.
My senses.
The hallway lights were too bright.
My vision swam.
"Walk," the operative ordered.
I did.
The hallway stretched long—too long.
A hum rose from the walls.
I felt something inside them scanning me.
Heat.
Pressure.
A soft pull, like static.
One scan brushed too close to my instinct core, and I stumbled.
One of the operatives grabbed my arm to steady me.
"Do not resist."
I glared at him.
"I wasn't resisting. The world just tilted."
"Neutrality treatments may cause sensory distortion," he said flatly.
"I noticed."
We reached an unmarked glass door.
Chamber A-01.
The operative pressed his hand to a glowing panel.
The door slid open.
I expected a cell.
A small room.
What I got was far worse.
A room with no hiding places.
No corners.
No shadows.
A transparent cube.
Perfectly sterile.
Perfectly controlled.
And in the center—
a single cot.
A single table.
A single chair.
Like a hospital room stripped of humanity.
My stomach twisted.
The operative gestured.
"Enter."
I stepped inside.
The door slid shut behind me with a soft, awful click.
A disembodied voice filled the room.
"Prime subject contained."
"Begin sensory calibration."
The lights dimmed.
Then brightened.
Then dimmed again.
My knees nearly buckled.
My hand reached out and pressed against one of the glass walls.
Cold.
Too cold.
"Calibration" was a nice word for what it was doing:
Testing how much it could suppress me without killing me.
I whispered:
"Stop… please stop…"
The lights pulsed in response.
My vision blurred.
My scent dulled even further.
My thoughts felt like they were underwater.
Instinct rattled inside my chest—
like an animal banging against a cage.
But the cage was winning.
Then—
a soft vibration reached the glass.
Quiet.
Familiar.
A voice.
Muffled.
Weak.
"Elle…?"
My breath caught.
"Horace?"
Another faint sound.
Closer.
"Elle… please… where are you…"
My heart cracked.
He wasn't here.
Of course he wasn't.
I was hearing him through what was left of the bond imprint—
faint
muffled
foggy
but real.
I pressed my forehead to the glass panel.
"I'm here," I whispered.
I wasn't sure if he could hear me.
But the bond…
the faintest thread…
pulled.
Horace whispered again, sounding like he was losing consciousness:
"Come back…"
My eyes blurred.
My voice cracked.
"I will."
I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor.
The lights dimmed again.
Then sharpened.
The room hummed.
"Calibration complete. Prime subject stable."
I laughed—quiet, bitter.
Stable?
No.
Not even close.
THE FIRST CRACK IN THE SYSTEM
A soft beep sounded in the corner of the room.
A small light blinked under the built-in table.
Faint.
Blue.
I blinked in confusion.
Was it part of the calibration?
Another test?
No.
It blinked again.
Twice.
Then off.
Then once.
Twice.
A pattern.
My pulse quickened.
That wasn't containment.
That was—
Lucian.
He found the chamber.
He found a way to let me know.
I leaned toward the blinking light.
My breath steadied for the first time since entering the wing.
"…I'm not alone," I whispered.
The room didn't answer.
But the tiny light blinked again.
Three slow flashes.
A coded message.
A promise.
We're coming.
The Cage Responds
The blinking light under the table faded—
but my heartbeat didn't.
Lucian.
He'd found a way to reach me without tripping the isolation alarms.
It wasn't a rescue.
Not yet.
But it was something.
Something human in a place designed to strip humanity away.
I leaned my head back against the glass wall and let myself breathe.
Just a few seconds.
Just enough to gather strength.
The room hummed softly, like it was waiting for something.
Maybe testing me.
Maybe watching me.
I wasn't sure which idea I hated more.
THE ROOM'S FIRST RESPONSE
A soft tone sounded.
"Instinct activity detected."
My breath hitched.
Another tone.
"Compensating."
The lights dimmed.
The glass walls pulsed faintly.
The air pressure shifted—
pressing down on my ribcage
making it harder to draw breath.
I pressed a hand against the floor to ground myself.
"Stop," I whispered.
"Stop it—stop—it's too much—"
The system didn't stop.
The pressure increased.
My instincts recoiled like I'd touched fire.
The room pushed harder.
Something inside my chest trembled—
No.
No.
Not like this.
Not while Rowan was crying.
Not while Chandler was trying desperately to hold him together.
Not while Lucian was risking everything.
Not while Horace was tearing himself apart because he couldn't reach me.
I pushed back.
Not physically—
I didn't have the strength.
But instinctively.
Deep inside the place the Prototype had tried to steal from me.
A soft pulse escaped my chest.
A small one.
Barely a breath of scent.
The chamber reacted instantly.
The walls shuddered.
The lights flickered.
A faint alarm chirped overhead.
"Warning: Prime resonance detected."
"Increasing suppression."
"No—no, stop—!"
The restraints tightened suddenly.
Not painfully.
Just enough to numb my wrists again.
Cold crawled up my spine.
My vision blurred around the edges.
I pressed my forehead against the floor, trying not to collapse.
But the system didn't understand what kind of Prime it was dealing with.
CUT TO — ROWAN
Rowan curled small on the medbay bed, clutching Chandler's hand like a lifeline.
"Chandler… I feel her—
I feel her being crushed—"
Chandler brushed trembling fingers through Rowan's hair.
"I know. I know, sweetheart. But she's tough. She won't break."
Rowan shook his head violently.
"No—no, she—she's hurting—
her scent—
it's so faint—
it's… small… Chandler—"
His voice cracked.
"Why is her scent so small…?"
Chandler froze.
Rowan was right.
He could barely smell her.
Chandler wrapped both arms around him.
"She's alive," he whispered fiercely.
"You hear me? She is ALIVE."
Rowan clung to him, sobbing silently.
CUT TO — HORACE
Lucian had two operatives restraining Horace on the medbay bed.
But Horace was fighting them.
Harder than before.
Uncoordinated.
Shaking.
"LET—ME—GO—!!"
Lucian grabbed his shoulders.
"Horace—STOP—she'll feel your panic—stop—!"
Horace snarled again, trying to push himself upright.
"I feel HER panic—
she's suffocating—
YOU ARE LETTING THEM SUFFOCATE HER—"
Lucian's eyes widened.
"How can you feel that? The suppression should've cut—"
Horace whipped his head toward him—
eyes wild, unfocused, glowing faintly with instinct.
Prime-adjacent.
It was rare.
Dangerous.
Lucian cursed under his breath.
"Horace—your connection to her—
it's too strong—
you'll put yourself in cardiac arrest—!"
Horace's voice cracked.
"I don't care—
I need her—
SHE NEEDS—ME—"
His body shook violently.
Lucian shouted at the operatives:
"Don't sedate him—DON'T TOUCH HIM—he'll reject it—!!"
CUT BACK — ELLEANORE
The room's suppression tightened around my ribcage—
air flattening against my lungs
pressure building behind my eyes
the lights pulsing faster.
Breath after breath felt thinner.
My vision blurred.
The room whispered again:
"Instinct spike detected."
"Compensating."
My body shook.
My hands slipped on the cold floor.
Every inhale felt like something pushing back from inside my chest.
I clenched my teeth.
"No."
My breath trembled.
"You don't get to control me."
The room trembled again.
A low rumble spread through the floorboards.
Another alarm chirped, sharper this time.
"UNIDENTIFIED RESONANCE. ERROR."
I lifted my head.
Just barely.
A small, trembling smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
"You can't read me, can you?"
The system hummed—
confused
agitated
reacting.
"Adjusting. Please remain still."
"No."
I pressed my palm flat against the cold floor.
"I won't."
My instinct rose—not violently.
Not like the medbay.
Not like the Prototype.
It rose slow.
Deep.
Quiet.
Like a pulse of warmth beneath my ribs.
The restraints trembled.
The floor vibrated.
The lights glitched.
Another alarm:
"UNEXPECTED PRIME SIGNATURE—"
"SUPPRESSION FAIL—"
"RECALIBRATING—"
I breathed—
for the first time since entering.
The room didn't break.
It didn't explode.
It simply—
adjusted.
Slowly.
Unwillingly.
But inevitably.
Because whatever the Academy built—
wasn't designed for someone like me.
LUCIAN'S MOVE
A loud crackling buzz filled the control panel outside the chamber.
Aris spun toward it.
"What—what is happening to the system?!"
Lucian stood at a secondary panel, fingers flying across the keys.
"Containment grid is recalibrating automatically."
"Why?!"
Lucian didn't answer.
Because he was the reason.
He'd slipped a silent override earlier.
One the system couldn't detect.
One that forced the chamber to reveal its weaknesses every time I pushed back.
Aris stepped toward him.
"You. You touched the grid—"
Lucian didn't look up.
"Aris," he said calmly,
"your containment chamber isn't strong enough to break her."
Aris stiffened.
"This is illegal."
"And so is what you're doing to her."
Aris slammed her hand against the emergency override panel.
"Operatives! Restrain him—"
Lucian didn't move.
But the panel sparked suddenly.
A sharp CRACK—!!
Aris yanked her hand back with a gasp.
"What—what did you—?!"
Lucian wore a small, terrifying smile.
"I told you. She's not alone."
THE INSTINCT CONNECTS
The chamber hummed.
The walls stopped vibrating.
The lights steadied.
The suppression softened for the first time.
And then—
a faint whisper flooded the chamber.
Not real.
Not audible.
Instinctual.
A voice.
Horace.
Elle—
My breath caught.
I pressed my palm to the glass.
"I'm here."
Rowan's voice followed—
thin, trembling—
Elleanore… please don't disappear…
My chest tightened.
"I'm not."
Chandler's deeper scent brushed the edges of my awareness—
fight. We're coming.
Lucian's whisper threaded through—
hold on.
My eyes burned.
Not from the room.
From the bond we had built
without even meaning to.
The room spoke again.
"Prime subject resonance stabilized."
A quiet miracle.
My instincts opened.
Slowly.
Gently.
And I whispered—
"I'm not breaking."
The chamber lights flickered.
A soft ping echoed in the corner.
The tiny blue light blinked again.
Three slow flashes.
We're coming.
I closed my eyes.
For the first time—
I believed it.