The cold, sterile air of the lab was a constant reminder of their captivity. Eryx, ever the sensitive child, fidgeted restlessly in his seat. His hands twitched, fingers brushing the smooth surface of the table, but it did nothing to calm the growing unease that gnawed at him. Today, something felt wrong. The usual hum of the machinery seemed louder, sharper, and the cries of the caged beasts more frantic. Their panic drowned out everything, even Lyra's soft voice beside him.
The only reprieve he had was the steady warmth of her hand in his. It was the only comfort the scientists allowed them—touch, but only in controlled doses. The cold metal of the chair beneath him, the steel tables, the glass walls—everything in the lab was designed to isolate them, to strip away their humanity. But Lyra's hand, warm and familiar, was his tether to something real.
"Lyra?" Eryx called out, his voice trembling, barely more than a whisper. He glanced sideways at her, but she didn't meet his gaze. Instead, her eyes were focused on the floor, her face pale and tight. The usual calm that filled her demeanor was absent. She was tense, her grip on his hand weak, almost... hesitant.
He frowned, sensing her unease. It was unlike her to show weakness. Lyra was always strong, always certain. But now, there was something off about her, something he couldn't place. His chest tightened, a heavy weight pressing down on him, and he found himself squeezing her hand tighter, his fingers trembling.
"I'm here," Lyra replied, her voice quieter than usual. Her words felt distant, like she was trying to speak from far away, her tone strained. Her grip faltered, barely holding onto his hand at all. The warmth he had relied on felt thinner now, as though it was slipping through his fingers.
Eryx's heart sank. Something wasn't right. He could feel it in the air, in the way she held him, in the way her body seemed to recoil from his touch. It was as if a wall had formed between them, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break through it. The usual comfort of her presence was fading, replaced with an unsettling sense of dread.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
He looked up, his eyes scanning the room. The scientists were silent today, their faces cold and unblinking. Normally, there was the soft murmur of their voices, the click of keyboards as they observed. But today, the silence hung thick in the air. Their eyes were fixed on him, on Lyra, on the beasts caged around them. And that coldness—they had always been distant, but today, there was something more. It was a hunger in their gaze, something calculating.
Suddenly, the shrill cry of one of the beasts cut through the silence, a desperate, guttural sound that sent a chill down his spine. Eryx's breath caught in his throat. The cry echoed in his mind, amplifying the tension in the room. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat louder than the last. He could feel it, the unease building, spreading through the air, wrapping around him like a tightening noose.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the noise, the pressure, the feeling of something snapping inside him. Sister always says that when I count to 100, the tests will be over, that everything will be fine
But today, counting didn't bring comfort. His breath was coming in ragged gasps now, the cold sweat slick on his skin. He tried to focus, tried to count, but his thoughts were spinning out of control. The cacophony of animal cries became deafening, a roar that made his chest tighten and his vision blur. His heart pounded erratically, faster and faster, until he couldn't tell where his body ended and the chaos began.
And then, it happened. Something stirred deep inside him—a power he couldn't control. It grew with an intensity he had never felt before, a tide crashing over him, dragging his consciousness under. It was like nothing he had experienced, a force that threatened to consume him whole.
He glanced at the scientists. The coldness in their eyes, the hunger... it made him shudder, a deep, primal fear crawling up his spine. He wanted to scream, to fight, to run, but his body wouldn't move. The pressure inside him only built, relentless and all-consuming.
His fingers dug into Lyra's hand, but she wasn't responding anymore. His grip tightened, but it was as if she were slipping away.
In a panic, he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it would block out the world. But the pressure inside him only grew, expanding outward, flooding his senses. The walls of the lab seemed to bend, the ground beneath him shifting.
And then, just as everything around him seemed to collapse, he lost himself to the darkness.