A long, deep breath came through the wall—
"Because every time they tried to kill me, I refused to die. And eventually... they stopped seeing me as a subject.
They started seeing me as a miracle. A living, breathing result of their worst experiments."
Her voice dropped even lower.
"They keep me in Level Seven because they're afraid of me. Afraid of what I might become if I ever escaped."
Maya's hand curled into a fist against the wall. Her chest was burning, her eyes stinging with tears she refused to shed. "Sixteen A..."
"I'm not asking for pity. I'm telling you wanted to know who I am—now you know."
The weight of those words pressed down on Maya.
She closed her eyes, seeing the girl she had never seen—a girl with a soft name she had forgotten, a girl trapped in a white room with nothing but the hum of machines.
"How do you survive above there?"
A faint, fragile sound came through the wall. Not quite a laugh but close. "I have the walls. And I have you."
Maya blinked. "Me?"
"You talk to me at night. You sing, sometimes, ask questions that no one else has ever asked.
It reminds me that I'm not the only one Living."
"Sixteen A," Maya said quietly, "how are you still sane?"
A almost sad laugh echoed through the wall. "Who says I am?"
Maya's heart ached. She pressed her forehead against the wall, as if she could somehow reach through the concrete and touch the other girl. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine."
"Can I ask you another question?"
"You're going to anyway, aren't you?"
Maya smiled faintly— "What's it like above there? Level Seven?"
There was a long pause.
"It's white, everything is white. There are no shadows. Nothing to look at, nothing to focus on.
And It's quiet, too quiet. The only sounds are the hum of the machines and my own breathing. Sometimes I forget what my own voice sounds like."
A pause.
"That's why I talk to you. When I heard your voice for the first time, I thought I was imagining it. I thought the isolation had finally broken me.
But then you kept talking. And I realized you were real person. "
"How long have you been down there?"
"I don't know. Years. I stopped counting after a while. The days all blur together.
The only way I know time passes is through the cycles. The lights dim at night. They brighten in the morning. Sometimes they forget to dim."
Maya's sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers pressed against the wall that separated her room from the endless corridors beyond.
"Sixteen A, can I ask you something?"
"You already did."
"Another question, then."
"Fine. What is it?"
Maya hesitated.
"Do superpowers really exist? In the world, I mean, Is there really such a thing?"
A long silence.
"Nothing is impossible, Subject Seventeen. You should know that by now."
"What do you mean?"
"I can hear through walls. I can feel vibrations through concrete. I can see in absolute darkness.
If that's not proof that impossible things can happen... I don't know what is."
A soft, bitter laugh.
"Some people might call that a superpower. I call it a side effect of too many experiments. But it's real. It's mine."
A bitter, half-hearted laugh echoed through the wall, "And yes... congratulations. Welcome to Code Blue.
Try not to go insane. The next phase is going to be... different. Things will happen that you can't even imagine. Things that will make everything you've endured so far look like a warm-up."
Maya swallowed hard. Her throat felt tight. "Thank you."
Silence. The kind of silence that was heavy with unspoken words, with the weight of everything they had shared through this wall.
"One question, though."
A long, exaggerated sigh drifted through the wall.
"What?"
"How exactly are you planning to die?"
A sound that could only be described as pure, unfiltered exasperation—
The sound of someone who had reached the absolute limit of their patience, "Subject Seventeen."
Maya blinked innocently. "Yes, Sixteen A?"
"Do you have a death wish?"
"Not particularly. I'm just trying to understand your process."
"MY PROCESS?!"
The shout was so loud that Maya flinched . She could almost picture it—the girl on the other side of the wall, her arms thrown up in frustration, her eyes blazing with incredulous fury.
"It's not a PROCESS, you absolute menace! It's called 'mind your own business and let me perish in peace'!
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
"Nothing. I'm just trying to visualize the scene. Everything is a story, even death."
A pause.
"Subject Seventeen. If you don't shut your mouth right now—"
"You'll what?" Maya asked, her voice innocent, curious.
"I will personally show you exactly why they keep me locked in Level Seven."
Maya's eyes widened. Her hand flew to her mouth,
"Understood, Dying in peace. Got it. Proceed with your death. I won't interrupt."
A long silence stretched between them.
Then, Subject 0016 A's voice drifted through the wall, almost dreamy, "You know, Subject Seventeen... I've been thinking."
"About what?"
"About how much I want to kill you."
Maya's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"
Subject 0016 A's voice came through the wall again. But this time, it was carrying an edge that made Maya's skin prickle.
"You know, Subject Seventeen... I've been thinking about killing you for a long time in a artistic way."
Maya could hear the smile in her voice— It was the smile of someone who had spent too long in the dark, who had forgotten how to smile like a normal person.
"I've imagined it so many times. The way your body would look—arranged just right. The blood pooling beneath you like a dark halo.
Your eyes still open, still watching, even after everything had stopped."
Maya's breath caught but she didn't pull away from the wall.
"You'd be so beautiful, Subject Seventeen. So still. So peaceful. Like one of those porcelain dolls but better.
Because you'd be real. You'd be mine. I'd take my time, of course. I wouldn't rush something so.... exquisite.
I'd start with your fingers. One by one. Slowly. I'd take my time with each one, feeling the bones break, listening to the sound they make when they snap."
Maya swallowed. "That's... that's very detailed."
"I'm a perfectionist. Every scream you let out would echo through the white room, bouncing off the walls. I'd listen carefully, picking out the ones that sound most... sincere."
A soft, almost dreamy sigh.
"Then I'd move to your hair. Spread it out around your head like a dark halo. So soft. So perfect. I'd make sure every strand was in its place."
Maya could feel her pulse in her ears.
"Then I'd move up to your wrists. I'd break them slowly—twisting , feeling the joints separate. You'd try to pull away, but you couldn't."
"Because you're stronger than me?"
"Because by then, your hands would be useless."
Maya let out a slow breath. "That's... actually pretty creative."
"Thank you. I've had a lot of time to practice in my head."
"And after my wrists?"
"Your ribs... I'd count them. One by one. I'd trace each one with my finger before I did anything else. Because I'd want to remember every part of you, every bone."
Maya's hand trembled against the wall.
"And your heart—I'd save that for last. I'd hold it in my hands while it was still beating. Just for a moment. "
A pause.
"Then I'd arrange you. Carefully like a work of art. You'd be the most beautiful thing I ever made.
And I'd sit there and I'd look at you and I'd think... 'Yes. This is what perfection looks like.'"
The silence that followed was absolute.
"Sixteen A..."
"Don't worry, Subject Seventeen. I'm not going to kill you. Not yet, anyway. You're too much fun alive."
Maya leaned against the cold concrete, a rare smile tugging at her lips. "You know, Sixteen A... I'm really excited. When are you coming?"
A beat of silence from the other side of the wall. Then Subject 0016 A's voice, flat and deeply unimpressed:
"Is your head even working properly?"
Maya's response came without hesitation, bright and cheerful— almost disturbingly so:
"Yes! I am a perfectly healthy, normal-minded human being! One hundred percent."
"One hundred percent?"
"Absolutely. I'm the picture of mental stability. A shining example of psychological wellness."
~~
Faha blinked. Then blinked again. His eyes went wide, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.
He turned slowly toward the others, his voice carrying a note of pure, unfiltered disbelief:
"Did she just... did she just say she's perfectly healthy? Normal-minded?!"
Fahad stared at the screen, his mouth slightly open. His usual composure had completely evaporated.
"She's asking a girl who described her murder in poetic detail when she's coming to visit."
Fahan let out a long, incredulous laugh—the kind that came from somewhere deep in his chest,
"If they are considered 'healthy-minded human beings'... I don't want to know what an unhealthy one is?!"
He threw his hands in the air, his voice rising with each word.
"Because apparently, 'perfectly healthy' means: surviving experiments, killing monsters with rocks, being shot in simulations and casually discussing murder plans!"
Fahish turned slowly toward Mahi, his expression caught between horror and amusement. His voice was almost gentle—
"Mother... did you actually give birth to a healthy child? Or did something go terribly, terribly wrong that we're only now discovering?
I mean are you sure? Because I'm starting to have serious doubts. "
Mahi's eye twitched. Her hands, which had been clasped tightly in her lap, slowly uncurled , her voice carrying a note of mock offense:
"I was so sure! For years, I was absolutely certain I gave birth to a completely normal, healthy baby girl!"
She paused. Her expression shifted into something more uncertain—almost dazed.
"And now I'm watching her joke with a girl who wants to kill her artistically. I don't know what I gave birth to anymore.
I mean.... I'm not so sure anymore."
She looked toward the projection, where Maya's cheerful face was still visible.
"I used to think, 'Yes, Maya is perfectly fine. Just a little quiet. Just a little reserved.' And now..."
Faha leaned forward, his voice flat:
"Now she's casually discussing murder plans with a girl who can hear through walls.
She asked her... 'When are you coming?' like it's a coffee date!"
Farhan let out a long, weary sigh, rubbing his temples:"I need a drink. And I don't even drink."
Mahim placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice rough with emotion. "She's a Sunayana. We don't break easily."
Fahan let out a wet laugh. "Clearly. We're either the strongest family in the world or the craziest."
"Both," Fahad said flatly. "Definitely both."
Faha raised a hand. "I vote crazy."
"Seconded," Farhan added.
~~
Maya's voice was bright, cheerful, and utterly unbothered: "So... when are you coming?"
A muffled sound came through the wall — the unmistakable noise of someone pressing their face into a pillow and screaming in frustration.
"Goodnight, Subject Seventeen. And for the love of everything unholy — let me die."
🔶😇🔶😇😇😇🔶🔶🤔🤔🙂🌸🌸🤔🌿
[ NEXT MORNING ]
The soft hum of the facility stirred Maya from sleep.
She blinked once, twice—her eyes adjusting to the warm, diffused light that filtered through the ceiling panel.
For a moment, she simply lay there, her dark eyes fixed on the smooth white surface above her.
The sheets were soft beneath her fingers, the faint scent of lavender still lingering in the air.
Then she remembered.
Nirvana B. Phase Two. The Ghosts of Hell.
She sat up slowly, her bare feet pressing against the cool floor. The uniform hung neatly on its rack—sleek, matte black, the symbol of the Ghosts of Hell embroidered on the chest.
She dressed quickly, her movements efficient, practiced. The fabric was soft against her skin, almost impossibly comfortable. She could feel the subtle hum of technology woven into its fibers—sensors, monitors, perhaps more.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the small mirror mounted on the wall.
For a moment, she barely recognized the girl staring back at her.
Her dark hair fell across her shoulders, her eyes still carried shadows—but there was something different about her posture. Something steadier.
She adjusted the collar of her uniform. Then she turned and walked toward the door.
---
The corridor was quiet, the soft ambient light casting long, gentle shadows across the polished floor. Maya stepped out of her room and paused.
They were already there.
Subject 0002 stood with her arms crossed, her sharp eyes scanning the corridor with her usual cold precision. Her cropped black hair was immaculate, her uniform fitted perfectly—a dark silhouette against the pale walls.
Subject 0014 leaned against the wall, his broad shoulders relaxed, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he saw her approach. His bald head gleamed under the soft light.
Subject 0004 stood slightly apart, his injured arm now fully healed, his expression as unreadable as ever. His posture was relaxed—but his eyes were alert, missing nothing.
And Subject 0011—Subject 0011 was fidgeting with his new glasses, his thin frame practically vibrating with nervous energy. His eyes lit up when he saw her.
Maya's lips curved into a small smile. "Well, well. Looks like we all made it to Aethros."
Subject 0014 let out a low chuckle. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Subject 0002's sharp eyes narrowed, but there was a faint glimmer of amusement beneath the surface. "Obviously. We're the Ghosts of Hell. Did you expect us to sleep in?"
"Honestly?" Maya tilted her head, her smile widening. "I expected Subject 0011 to be late."
Subject 0011 sputtered, his face flushing. "I—I was not late! I was early! I've been standing here for—"
"Ten minutes," Subject 0004 said flatly. "I counted."
Subject 0011's mouth opened, then closed. He looked like a fish gasping for air.
Subject 0014 burst out laughing, his deep voice echoing through the corridor. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
Subject 0002 let out a long, weary sigh. "If you're all quite finished... we have a class to attend."
She turned and began walking down the corridor without waiting for a response.
Maya fell into step beside her, the others following close behind. "So, any idea what Aethros is going to be like?"
Subject 0002 didn't look at her. "The Separation. The first stage of Code Blue. They'll teach us to think independently of instinct."
"That sounds... abstract."
"It is. That's the point."
Subject 0011 hurried to catch up, his glasses slipping down his nose. "I read about it last night. The files they gave us—"
"You read the files?" Subject 0014 asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course I read the files! They gave us files!"
"Overachiever."
"At least I'm not going to fail because I didn't prepare!"
Subject 0014 grinned. "I never fail. I just... improvise."
"That's terrifying."
"Thank you."
Subject 0004 remained silent, his footsteps soft against the polished floor. His eyes were fixed on the corridor ahead, his expression unreadable.
Maya glanced at him. "Everything okay?"
A pause. Then: "Fine."
"You're quiet."
"I'm always quiet."
"More than usual."
Subject 0004's jaw tightened, just slightly. Then he spoke, his voice low: "I'm thinking."
"About what?"
He didn't answer. But his eyes flickered toward her for just a moment—a brief, unreadable glance—before returning to the corridor ahead.
Maya didn't press. She had learned that Subject 0004 spoke when he was ready, and not a moment sooner.
---
The classroom was unlike anything they had seen in the lower levels.
It was vast, the ceiling lost in shadow, the walls lined with soft, ambient light that shifted and pulsed like a living thing. The floor was polished obsidian, reflecting the glow like a dark mirror.
At the center of the room stood five desks arranged in a semicircle.
They were sleek, ergonomic, their surfaces smooth and dark. Each desk had a small holographic interface built into its surface—waiting.
The five of them moved to their seats without a word.
Subject 0014 slumped into his chair, his broad frame barely fitting. "Not bad. Comfortable."
Subject 0011 sat carefully, his hands resting on the desk's surface. "There's an interface built into the desk."
"We can see that, genius," Subject 0002 muttered.
Subject 0004 sat with military precision, his back straight, his hands resting on his knees.
Maya settled into her seat, her dark eyes sweeping across the room.
And then—the door slid open.
The Instructor stepped inside.
She moved with the same fluid grace they had come to expect, her white coat billowing behind her like wings. Her amber eyes swept across the five of them, a faint smile touching her lips.
"Good morning, Ghosts of Hell."
The words were simple. But they carried a weight that settled over the room like a blanket.
Subject 0014 straightened in his seat. Subject 0011's hands stopped fidgeting. Subject 0002's sharp eyes narrowed—but she inclined her head, just slightly.
Subject 0004 remained still as a statue.
And Maya—Maya met the Instructor's gaze without flinching.
"Good morning, Instructor."
The Instructor's smile widened, just a fraction.
"I see you've all settled in. Good." She moved to the front of the room, her hands clasping behind her back. "Today marks the beginning of your journey through Aethros—the first stage of Code Blue."