The world returned in broken pieces.
Sounds. Smells. Pain.
Elian opened his eyes to darkness — thick, suffocating darkness — and the distant hum of machines.
His body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
He tried to move.
Chains clinked.
His wrists and ankles were bound to cold iron restraints bolted to the floor.
Another cage.
But this one didn't need walls.
---
Dim lights flickered on, bathing the room in a sickly green glow.
It was a laboratory.
Steel tables lined the walls, covered with syringes, scalpels, devices Elian couldn't recognize but instinctively feared.
On one table, a familiar figure lay unconscious — Kael, strapped down with leather belts, electrodes attached to her temples.
Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths.
Machines beeped in cruel rhythm.
Above her, a glass window stretched the length of the wall.
And behind that glass, silhouettes watched.
Scientists. Men in suits. Soldiers.
And Ryen.
Ryen stood apart from the others, hands in his pockets, face unreadable.
---
A voice crackled through hidden speakers.
Clinical. Emotionless.
"Subject 17 has shown remarkable resilience. Accelerated healing. Cognitive resistance to neural reprogramming. Recommend proceeding to Phase Three."
Another voice — smoother, hungrier:
"And the boy?"
A pause.
"Potentially more valuable than anticipated. Genetic markers suggest compatibility with prototype systems. Suggest beginning integration immediately."
Integration?
Systems?
Elian's stomach twisted.
He didn't understand everything — but he understood enough.
They didn't just want to break him.
They wanted to use him.
Turn him into something else.
Something less than human.
---
Ryen entered the room alone.
The door hissed shut behind him.
He stood over Elian, silent for a long time.
Elian glared up at him, hatred burning hotter than the IV drip snaking into his veins.
"You used to be better than this," Elian croaked, his voice raw.
Ryen sighed, almost sadly.
"You think the world cares about 'better'?" he asked. "It only cares about who survives."
Elian spat blood at Ryen's boots.
Ryen didn't flinch.
"You'll thank me someday," he said quietly. "They would have crushed you completely. This way, at least... you'll be part of something bigger."
Elian's laugh was broken and hollow.
"Bigger than what? A machine? A puppet?"
"Better than a corpse," Ryen said, turning away.
No.
Elian refused.
He wasn't going to be another ghost in their machine.
If they wanted to break him, they would have to kill him first.
---
As Ryen left, Elian felt something stir inside him.
Something ancient.
Something furious.
It wasn't fear anymore.
It was rage.
It was hope.
Hope twisted into a blade.
And it burned hotter than anything they could pump into his veins.
He tested the chains again, feeling the give.
The bolts were old. Rusted.
The walls vibrated with the hum of machinery — circuits, electricity, wires.
And Elian realized something:
This cage had weaknesses.
Just like every cage before it.
---
Elian glanced at Kael.
She needed him.
Not tomorrow.
Not in an hour.
Now.
Her face was pale, drained, almost translucent under the flickering lights.
Whatever they had planned for her... she wouldn't survive long without help.
Move, he ordered himself.
Break.
Fight.
Survive.
Because if he didn't — nobody would.
And the betrayal of Ryen would only be the first of many.
---