Morning came with alarms.
Not the polite kind — the metal-on-metal kind that sounds like a factory choking on its own guilt.
Kael sat up on his cot, instantly awake.
Ashveil murmured in his head.
> "That sound again. The world begging for permission to die."
Kael rubbed his face. "Too early for poetry."
> "It's never too early for apocalypse."
He stood, grabbed his jacket, and stepped into the corridor. Soldiers ran past, shouting orders. Lights flickered in rapid Morse-code panic.
He caught a glimpse of Mira, hair pulled back, barking into a comms unit.
"Sector Twelve breached! Get those lamps stabilized!"
Kael jogged over. "What happened?"
She glanced at him. "Containment failure. One of the resonance samples went active."
"Which one?"
Her silence was answer enough.
---
The lab was chaos — overturned equipment, scorch marks on the ceiling, the air thick with something that hummed like static wrapped in anger.
The moon-shard's case was cracked.
Dr. Inari stood in the center of the wreckage, her eyes wide and glowing faintly gold.
Her voice came out too calm for the situation.
"We woke something," she said.
Kael's mark burned instantly. Ashveil hissed.
> "That's not light in her veins. That's reflection trying to escape."
Mira drew her weapon. "Doctor, step back—"
Inari laughed — short, breathless, manic.
"Do you know what this is? It's the moon's blood! We've been living under its corpse, and this—this is its pulse!"
Then her skin began to crack.
Fine fractures of light spread up her arms, glowing from the inside like broken porcelain filled with fire.
Every bulb in the room shattered at once.
Kael shouted, "Get down!"
The explosion was silent. A wave of pure brightness swept outward, turning the air to glass and the sound to dust.
When Kael's vision cleared, half the lab was gone.
Inari was gone too.
All that remained was a shimmer in the air, and a single word echoing faintly inside Kael's mind.
> "Remember."
---
They staggered into the hall. The ceiling flickered between shadow and light like the world couldn't decide which side to pick.
Kael leaned on a wall, breathing hard. "That… was her, right? That wasn't my fault for once?"
Mira exhaled a laugh — rough, shaky. "Congratulations, Vorrin. You're officially not the worst thing that's happened today."
> "I could fix that," Ashveil offered helpfully.
"Don't encourage it," Kael muttered.
They passed the infirmary — or what was left of it. Patients twitched under sheets, shadows writhing under their cots. The air buzzed like electricity gone feral.
Ashveil whispered, quieter now.
> "Something's changing. The moon's pulse isn't asleep anymore."
Kael glanced at Mira. "Translation?"
Mira reloaded her weapon. "Translation: run faster."
---
They reached the central hall just as the first one emerged.
It looked human at first — until it stepped into the light.
Its skin was translucent, veins glowing faintly silver. Its eyes were mirrors.
The soldiers froze.
Then it screamed — a sound like broken glass remembering it used to be a window.
Kael flinched. "Okay, I'm gonna guess that's new."
Mira didn't answer. She fired. The bullets hit the creature and sank in — not tearing, just vanishing. The thing's reflection shimmered with each impact.
> "It's hollow," Ashveil said. "But not empty. It's full of light pretending to be flesh."
Kael's mark flared again.
He felt the connection — faint, like static at the edge of hearing.
The thing turned toward him, as if noticing the same frequency.
It whispered, "We remember your voice."
Kael took a step back. "That's… flattering, but I'm not taking visitors."
Mira glanced at him. "You're resonating again."
"No kidding."
The creature moved faster than thought. Kael barely dodged as it slammed into the floor, cracking concrete. Its hand brushed his sleeve — light burned through the fabric, leaving patterns that pulsed like veins.
Ashveil snarled.
> "It's trying to overwrite us."
"Suggestions?"
> "Outshine it."
Kael gritted his teeth. "You're not helpful when you're vague!"
> "I'm ancient, not Google."
---
Instinct took over. Kael shouted Ashveil's name, and the shadow behind him unfurled, slamming into the Hollow with the weight of night.
Dark met light — the collision like two storms folding into each other.
The creature shrieked. Its body fractured into lines of white flame, but instead of vanishing, it clung to the walls — living graffiti of light veins crawling upward.
"Did we kill it?" Kael asked.
Mira watched the glow snake across the ceiling. "Define kill."
Ashveil's voice was grim.
> "You didn't kill it. You reminded it what it was."
The light veins pulsed once, then faded — absorbed into the walls, leaving faint sigils like scars.
The alarms stopped. The silence that followed was worse.
Kael slumped against the wall, panting. "That was the worst science fair ever."
Mira smirked faintly. "Congratulations, Vorrin. You're now officially our most valuable experiment."
"Great," Kael said. "Can I exchange that for a nap?"
---
Later, as they cleaned the wreckage, Mira asked, "You think she's dead? Dr. Inari?"
Kael looked toward the ruined lab.
"I think she became what she was studying."
> "Light remembers too," Ashveil murmured. "It just hides longer."
Mira sighed. "Remind me why we're still here?"
Kael gave her a half-smile. "Because every time we run, the apocalypse follows. Might as well charge rent."
She laughed — tired, genuine. "You really are terrible company."
"I keep getting reviews that say the same thing."
They walked away from the ruined lab as the lamps flickered uncertainly — each glow faintly tinted silver now, like the moon was trying to claw its way back through the light.
And somewhere deep below the shelter, the moon shard pulsed once more — slow, steady, patient.
Waiting.
---