The shadows in Nathan's cell felt heavier now, thick like smoke, clinging to him with an oppressive weight that seemed to grow each time he woke up. His sense of time had frayed, unraveling under the relentless strain of isolation and the GRA's insidious methods. Their containment protocols had tightened; his brief moments of freedom were now rarer and more heavily guarded. His world shrank to metal walls, harsh lights, and the creeping dread that had settled deep in his bones.
One morning, they woke him at dawn. Two agents led him through the facility, not bothering to explain where he was being taken. He had long since learned not to ask; questions only earned him cold stares and tighter grips on his arms. They stopped before a reinforced metal door, the agents exchanging a nod before they unshackled him and forced him inside.
Inside, Nathan was greeted by a room bathed in a harsh, sterile white light. A single chair sat in the center, bound by metal restraints. Monitors lined the walls, humming softly, each one displaying streams of data he couldn't comprehend.
"Take a seat," came a voice over the intercom, devoid of warmth, a disembodied command that left no room for refusal.
With a deep breath, Nathan sat down, his heart hammering as the restraints clamped around his wrists and ankles. The air was thick with an unsettling chill, the sort of cold that seeped into his bones and reminded him just how alone he was in this place. The monitors blinked to life, their displays shifting to strange symbols and charts that made his head throb.
The test began.
First, the lights dimmed, flashing sporadically, disorienting him. Then came a low-frequency hum, a relentless sound that drilled into his mind, stirring a dizzying wave of nausea. Nathan shut his eyes, gritting his teeth as the world blurred around him. He lost track of time, his thoughts slipping between memories and strange fragments, moments that felt half-formed, as though he were experiencing someone else's dreams.
But the worst part was the pressure—an intense, crushing weight that built slowly, pressing down on him from every angle. It twisted his sense of reality, bending his perception of the room, of himself. He felt like he was sinking, falling through layers of darkness, the weight bearing down on his mind until he was certain he'd be crushed under it.
For a split second, his vision fractured, and in the darkness, he saw it—a shimmering tear in the air, like a faint outline of a Gate. It hovered, half-formed, flickering with strange, pulsing energy that called to him, urging him to reach out. He strained against his restraints, desperate to touch it, to find some kind of release from the madness closing in on him.
But before he could reach it, the Gate faded, dissolving into the air like mist. The crushing weight lifted, the room snapping back into focus, and Nathan found himself slumped in the chair, panting, drenched in sweat. His pulse was erratic, his vision blurred, and the remnants of the Gate's energy left a faint buzzing in his mind, a lingering reminder that it had been real—at least for a moment.
"Test concluded," the voice announced flatly, as though nothing unusual had happened. The restraints released, and Nathan staggered to his feet, his legs weak, his mind still reeling from the glimpse he'd caught. The agents led him back to his cell, ignoring the haunted look in his eyes, the trembling in his hands.
As they locked him inside, the System pulsed, its message sharp and clear.
Survive.
The word echoed in his mind, simple yet filled with a weight that spoke of trials yet to come, of a struggle he had barely begun to understand. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to steady his breathing, his thoughts. The System was warning him, urging him to withstand whatever the GRA threw his way, as though it knew his limits would be tested far beyond what he could imagine.
Days slipped by in a haze of silence and shadow, each one blurring into the next. But amid the solitude, Nathan's senses sharpened, his mind seizing on every small detail he could find. He noted the guards' routines, their movements, the brief exchanges they had outside his cell. Every sliver of information felt like a thread, and he grasped each one tightly, weaving them into the semblance of a plan, however vague.
During one of his rare transfers down the hallway, he caught sight of another detainee—a Blessed, by the look of her, with hollowed eyes and a faint, haunted look that mirrored his own. She was muttering under her breath, her words a broken string of warnings that made little sense, but when she noticed Nathan watching her, her eyes sharpened, a flicker of life sparking within the dull gaze.
"They'll break you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the facility. "They break us all, one way or another. But... some of us survive. Some of us… change."
Before he could respond, an agent noticed their exchange and dragged her away, her mutterings fading into the distance, leaving Nathan with a chill that settled into his bones. They break us all. Her words echoed in his mind, a reminder of what he had witnessed in the Observation Room, of the twisted experiments and the hollowed eyes of those who had surrendered.
But he couldn't afford to break. Not now. Not when he was beginning to understand the stakes.
The isolation intensified after that. The guards stopped talking when they escorted him, their gazes colder, less patient, as though his defiance had marked him as something other than a mere detainee. His cell was stripped of anything resembling comfort, and they cut off the dim light he'd grown used to, plunging him into an unrelenting darkness that felt alive, pressing in on him, threatening to consume him whole.
It was during one of these dark nights that he heard the alarms.
A distant, piercing sound echoed down the corridors, breaking the silence with a sense of urgency he had never felt in this place. He pressed his ear to the cold metal of the cell door, straining to hear, to make sense of the commotion outside. Footsteps pounded down the hall, agents shouting, orders barked in clipped voices.
"Containment breach in Sector C! All units on standby!"
Nathan's pulse quickened, his mind racing. This was his chance, a disturbance that could give him the information he needed, maybe even a moment of freedom if he was lucky. But the guards were on high alert, their voices tense, the clang of weapons and the thud of heavy boots echoing ominously through the facility.
A sudden glow caught his attention. He looked down to see the faint symbol on his palm, the one the System had left him, pulsing with a soft, eerie light that seemed to resonate with the chaos outside. It was as though the System was warning him, urging him to stay alert, to take advantage of this moment.
The lights flickered, and for a split second, he thought he saw another Gate, faint and shimmering in the air just outside his cell. It was barely visible, a mirage on the edge of his vision, but it sent a thrill through him—a reminder of the power he carried within, of the unknown realms waiting just beyond his reach.
But as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished, leaving him alone in the darkness once more.
He heard the lock disengage, the door creaking open as two agents entered, their expressions grim, one of them pointing a flashlight in his face, blinding him momentarily.
"Get up," one barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Nathan stood, his mind racing with questions, wondering if the breach had anything to do with the anomaly he had glimpsed in his vision. Was it possible the Void Realms, or whatever he'd seen, had somehow broken through? Or was this merely another twisted test orchestrated by the GRA?
The guards led him down the hall, his heart pounding as he caught snippets of their conversation.
"…reality warping… no ordinary Blessed…"
"…high containment protocol… this one's dangerous…"
Their words stirred something within him, a sense of kinship with whatever entity they spoke of. Perhaps it was another like him, a being with ties to the realms beyond, a reminder that he wasn't as alone as they wanted him to believe.
As they reached a temporary holding cell, one of the agents turned, his gaze sharp, a warning etched into his eyes. "We know you're different," he said, his voice cold and precise. "They know it too. Don't think for a second you're special enough to escape what's coming."
The words struck him with a chill that settled deep within his bones, confirming the suspicions that had haunted him since his capture. Whatever secrets the GRA held, whatever their plans, they knew more about him than he'd realized. And they would stop at nothing to ensure he never escaped, that he never saw the light of freedom again.
The door clanged shut, and Nathan stood alone, his fists clenched, the faint glow of the symbol on his palm a silent reminder of the unknown power simmering beneath his skin, waiting to break free.
In the distance, the alarms continued to wail, a promise of chaos that he hoped would soon engulf them all.