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One hundred and ninety - one
Selene’s expression didn’t change immediately.For a split second, it held—relief, lingering concern, the quiet steadiness she always carried.Then his words settled in.Lyra found me.And something in her gaze cracked.Not outwardly. Not in a way most people would notice.But Eli did.Because he was looking for it.Her fingers, still lightly resting against his arm, tensed just slightly before easing again. Her shoulders dropped a fraction, like something inside her had shifted out of place.“I’m sorry.”The words came softer than expected.It wasn't rushed. Nor defensive.Just… real.Eli’s brow lifted faintly, the smallest crease forming between his brows as he studied her.“…For what?”Selene exhaled quietly, her gaze dropping for just a moment before lifting back to his.“If I hadn’t asked you to take a break,” she said, voice steady but edged with something heavier beneath, “you would have been on alert.”A pause.Her fingers curled slightly against his sleeve.“You wouldn’t have
One hundred and ninety
The road stretched ahead in long, quiet lines.Gray sky. Dark water. Jagged edges of land that never quite softened, no matter how far they drove.It felt unfinished.Like the world here had been carved out halfway and then… abandoned.Carlos kept his hands steady on the wheel, of the car they had rented specifically for this ‘tour’, eyes forward, posture relaxed in a way that only looked casual if you didn’t know him.Because beneath that— He was watching everything.Eli hadn’t spoken in a while.Not since Lofoten.Not since that shift in tone that had settled into something sharper… more deliberate.Carlos let the silence sit for a bit longer before he finally exhaled lightly through his nose.“…So,” he started, voice cutting gently into the quiet, “we just gonna keep driving until we hit the ocean again or—”“That’s enough.”Carlos blinked once.Not because of the words.But because of how calm they were.He glanced sideways briefly.Eli hadn’t moved much—still leaning slightly bac
One hundred and eighty - nine
The sky over Norway didn’t look hostile.That in its self made Carlos suspicious.From above, it stretched wide and open—endless sheets of muted gray-blue broken only by jagged landforms and scattered islands that looked almost… peaceful.Carlos scoffed knowing better.“Yeah,” he muttered under his breath, adjusting the controls slightly. “Looks nice until you try to land.”The helicopter cut steadily through the cold air, the low thrum of the blades vibrating through the frame. Wind currents here weren’t forgiving—sharp, unpredictable shifts that tugged at the aircraft just enough to remind him that this wasn’t controlled airspace.Not really.Below him— Nothing looked built for access.The terrain was uneven. Rocky. Fractured in a way that felt intentional rather than natural. Water cut through land in narrow, winding veins, isolating sections into near-perfect separations.Carlos’ eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned forward, scanning.“Come on…” he murmured.Coordinates only got hi
One hundred and eighty - eight
Silence didn’t break immediately after the question.It stretched.Thin. Tense. Quiet in a way that felt like it was waiting for something to snap into place.Eli didn’t answer right away.Not because he didn’t hear it.But because his mind had already moved ahead of the words—mapping, calculating, adjusting to the new variable that had just been dropped into his lap.Norway.His gaze shifted slightly, scanning the corridor again—not like before, not aimless—but sharper now. Intentional.Cold architecture. Controlled environment. Isolation surrounded by water.It fit.Too well.“Eli.”Carlos’ voice came again, tighter this time. Not impatient—just grounding.“I heard you,” Eli replied calmly.A pause.Then, evenly—“That makes sense.”There was a beat of silence on the other end.“…It does?” Carlos asked, skepticism slipping through.Eli pushed off the wall, resuming a slow walk down the corridor. His pace wasn’t rushed—but there was direction now.“It aligns with what I saw,” he said
One hundred and eighty - seven
The corridors didn’t change.That was the first problem.Not visually—no. They were clean, consistent, almost deliberately minimal in design. But after a while, that sameness stopped being neutral.It became intentional.Eli walked.And walked.And walked.Time stopped behaving like something measurable. There were no windows in most of the halls, no clocks, no sounds that marked progression. Just the steady rhythm of his steps and the quiet, controlled pace of his breathing.At some point—he stopped counting turns.Not because he couldn’t.But because it stopped mattering.Every variation he introduced—every change in direction, every deviation from pattern—led him back to the same conclusion.This place wasn’t confusing.It was contained. Carefully. Precisely.Built that way. Hours passed.He knew they did—not by any external cue, but by the subtle shifts in his own body. The weight settling deeper into his muscles. The dryness at the back of his throat. The faint tension starting t
One hundred and eighty - six
Darkness didn’t feel like sleep.It felt like… nothing.No dreams. No fragments. No sense of time passing.Just a blank stretch where everything had cut out.And then- Eli inhaled.A sharp sudden sound.Like his body had remembered something before his mind did.His eyes opened slowly, vision unfocused at first—just blurred shapes and dim light bleeding into each other. For a second, he didn’t move.Didn’t think.Then sensation came back.Not all at once. Not violently like before.But gradually.His fingers twitched.That was the first thing he noticed.Small. Controlled. Responsive…. Progress.His brows pulled together slightly.Then his arm.He lifted it—slow, cautious—watching the way it obeyed him this time without resistance. No lock. No jolt. No lingering current biting into his nerves.The shock had worn off.Completely.Eli exhaled quietly, his gaze shifting upward as the last fragments of the fight settled back into place in his memory.Lyra.The gun. The word. Prototype.Hi
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