The lights still hadn't recovered.
They flickered overhead in weak, trembling spasms—struggling like dying insects trapped in glass. Most of the room remained washed in the exhausted gray glow of failing power cells. The surgical lamp above her swung on a loose hinge, drifting left and right in a slow arc like it was uncertain where to fall.
Sera hadn't looked away from the body on the ground.
It still looked like Elias, except for the part where it didn't. Except for the part where it wasn't a body anymore.
His heart had stopped moving minutes ago. His lungs had stopped long before that. The creature inside him—whatever name it once had—finished its promise the way every creature did: with intention, brutality, and without mercy.
The guards around them hadn't seemed to notice yet.
They were too busy arguing with each other, flanking the sealed door, trying to call Director Mercer—though all communications had died the moment the pulse surged through the room.
