Justin stood at the meeting point, his grip tightening on the book as he scanned the desolate area. The air was eerily still, a heavy tension pressing against his chest. He glanced at his watch—five minutes had passed since the agreed time, and neither Cyrus nor Flin were anywhere in sight. The unease in his gut grew stronger.
Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed through his temples. He stumbled back, clutching his head as a cacophony of voices erupted in his mind.
"I thought we told you to handle them quietly and bring the book without any followers," Cyrus's voice sneered, cutting through Justin's thoughts like a blade. The tone was laced with malice, sharp and unyielding.
"Get out of my head!" Justin shouted, his voice echoing in the empty space. But Cyrus's voice only grew louder, sharper.
"You're weak, Justin. Useless without that book. You're nothing more than a failure."
The words echoed as his vision blurred. Images began flashing before his eyes—haunting, vivid, and relentless. He saw his parents' deaths replaying over and over, their faces twisted in anguish. His grandmother, cold and cruel, stabbing him in an event that never truly happened but felt horrifyingly real. The lines between reality and illusion blurred as Cyrus bombarded him with false memories and the worst moments of his life.
Justin dropped to his knees, his screams of agony filling the air. His mind felt like it was tearing apart, every corner invaded by Cyrus's manipulation.
Nia, hiding nearby and monitoring Justin from a distance, heard his scream and ran to his side. Her heart sank as she saw him writhing on the ground, his face contorted in pain.
"Justin! What's happening? Talk to me!" she demanded, grabbing his shoulders. But Justin could only manage incoherent murmurs, his body trembling violently. Nia's communicator crackled to life, a voice on the other end barking orders to retreat, but she ignored it.
In a desperate move, she activated her teleportation device, wrapping her arms around Justin. With a sharp crack, the world around them dissolved into a blur of shadows.
They reappeared in a dark, cluttered room. The faint hum of machinery and the soft glow of scattered monitors illuminated the space. Nia laid Justin down on a makeshift cot and turned to the shadows.
"It was as you said," she murmured.
From the corner of the room, a figure stepped forward—Director Kain, his imposing presence casting a long shadow. He crossed his arms, his face unreadable.
"I'm always right, kid," Kain said coolly, his blind gaze fixed on Justin's trembling form. "Once I see it, that means it's going to happen."
Nia squared her shoulders, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "Sir, you foresaw this, but you also foresaw the Framework being compromised. Why didn't you warn the other directors?"
Kain's lips curled into a smirk, but there was no humor in it. "My future sight doesn't work like that, Nia. I see fragments, possibilities—not certainties. And sometimes, interfering too early creates more chaos than letting things unfold."
"But this—" Nia started to argue, but a guttural scream from Justin cut her off. Both turned to see him arching his back, his hands clawing at his head as if trying to rip Cyrus's voice out.
Kain's smirk faded, replaced by a rare look of concern. "He's in deep. Whatever Cyrus is doing, it's more than psychological. It's invasive. We need to act fast."
Justin's body convulsed violently before going limp. His breathing slowed, his face pale and drenched in sweat.
Nia's voice cracked with worry. "What's happening to him?"
Kain stepped closer, his expression grim. "He's unconscious, but his mind is under siege. Cyrus is in control of something—his memories, his emotions, or worse, his powers."
Kain snapped his fingers, signaling Nia to move. "Take him to the lab. I need full diagnostics. If Cyrus is tampering with his mind, we need to know how deep the damage goes."
The lab was a stark contrast to the shadowy room—a sterile, brightly lit space filled with high-tech equipment. The hum of machines was constant, their screens displaying streams of data. Nia and Kain moved quickly, placing Justin on a diagnostic bed. As the machines whirred to life, scanning his vitals and neural activity, the faint glow of the book clutched in Justin's hand caught Nia's attention.
She glanced at Kain, who was already observing the monitors with a sharp intensity. "Do you think this is because of the book?" she asked hesitantly.
Kain's expression darkened. "I don't think. I know."
As the first diagnostic results began to appear on the screens, Justin let out a soft, almost inaudible whisper: "Cyrus... Flin... the book..."
Kain leaned closer, his voice low but firm. "We're running out of time, Nia. If we don't figure this out soon, we're all as good as dead."