Healer’s Wrath

CHAPTER 3B – THE WOMAN IN CRIMSON

Fred burst through the wall expecting pain, but instead found air that shimmered like glass and a floor that didn’t feel solid. He stumbled into darkness, coughing, his pulse vibrating like a drum inside his chest.

A pale glow pulsed ahead. Lyra stood a few meters away, her back to him, surrounded by floating screens, old monitors, some cracked, others flickering with encrypted feeds. The place smelled of metal and damp earth.

Fred blinked. “Where are we?”

“Below the city,” she said, not turning. “One of the last safe channels the Board doesn’t own yet.”

Fred glanced around. Cables crawled across the walls like veins. Every screen showed fragments, faces, city grids, genetic readouts marked RESONANT: CLASSIFIED.

“This is insane,” he murmured. “You live here?”

“I exist here,” she corrected. “Living stopped meaning much after they pulled me out of the lab.”

He hesitated. “Pulled you out?”

Lyra finally faced him. “I wasn’t born, Fred. I was grown, from a failed experiment in cellular resonance control. You were their next try.”

Fred took a step back. “No. I’m real.”

She studied him for a long moment. “So was I, until I wasn’t.”

Silence pressed between them. Fred clenched his jaw. “If what you’re saying is true, then why me? Why pick some ordinary guy, crash a car, and”

“Because you’re not ordinary,” she interrupted. “They needed someone natural, someone whose empathy could stabilize the Phoenix Core.”

“The what again?”

“The dual energy living inside you.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, clinical. “Healing and destruction, two halves of the same resonance. The first time they merged it, it consumed the host. You survived. That’s why they call you Phoenix.”

Fred shook his head. “That’s, no. I didn’t survive because of them. I survived because I fought.”

Lyra’s eyes softened. “You think fighting changes what you are?”

He met her gaze. “It’s all that’s kept me alive.”

For the first time, she almost smiled. “Good. You’ll need that stubbornness.”

Fred folded his arms. “So what now? You show me horror files and expect me to join your rebellion?”

“Rebellion?” she echoed. “No. That word still assumes we can win.”

“Then what do you call it?”

“Buying time.”

Fred frowned. “For what?”

“For the world to realize what’s coming.”

Before he could ask, the monitors flickered. One by one, the feeds bled into static. A harsh mechanical tone filled the room. Lyra froze. “They found us.”

Fred glanced around. “How?”

“The ring,” she hissed. “I anchored through it, they must’ve tracked the signature.”

Fred ripped it off again, throwing it to the floor. “Then we smash it!”

“Too late.” She pointed to the nearest screen.

A new feed stabilized, Rhea’s face, illuminated in blue light. “Hello, Fred,” she said, voice smooth, detached. “I see you’ve met your predecessor.”

Lyra’s jaw tightened. “End the transmission.”

“You know I can’t,” Rhea replied. “You both made this connection possible.”

Fred stepped closer to the screen. “Why? Why lie to me?”

“You needed purpose,” Rhea said simply. “Fear drives instinct, instinct reveals potential. We needed to see how far you’d go.”

Fred’s stomach turned. “You used me.”

“We created you,” Rhea corrected. “And you’ve already surpassed expectation.”

Lyra snapped, “He’s not your property.”

“Neither were you,” Rhea said. “And yet you returned to me the moment he woke. Predictable.”

Fred’s head spun. “What does she mean?”

Lyra’s eyes darkened. “Don’t listen”

“She never escaped,” Rhea said, cutting across her. “We let her believe she did. You’re connected, Fred. Her code, your body. One cycle, two shells.”

Fred’s breath caught. “That’s not possible.”

“You’re proof it is.”

Lyra lunged forward and slammed her hand into the console. Sparks erupted; the feed died in a hiss of static. Fred stared at her. “What did she mean, your code?”

Lyra didn’t meet his eyes. “Forget it.”

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “Tell me.”

Her silence was answer enough. Fred’s voice rose. “You knew! You came here pretending to save me, but you wanted to see if, what—what, that I’d activate your missing piece?”

Her expression cracked for the first time, guilt flickering beneath the calm. “It wasn’t supposed to matter who we were made from. But when I saw you”

Fred laughed bitterly. “You saw yourself.”

“I saw what I could’ve been,” she whispered.

Fred shook his head, backing away. “You used me too.”

“Fred”

“Don’t.” His resonance flared red around his hands, unstable. “You’re all the same.”

The hum in the chamber deepened. Lights flickered. Lyra’s eyes widened. “You’re resonating too high! Stop”

Fred shouted, “Tell me why I exist!”

The air tore open, literally split with a flash of crimson light. Shockwaves blasted through the underground room, flinging machines aside.

When the light faded, Fred stood in the center, trembling, his aura burning gold and red at once. Cracks glowed across his arms like veins of molten glass.

Lyra crawled toward him. “You have to anchor!”

He stared down at her, half in fury, half in terror. “You said we were the same. So anchor me.”

She reached out, fingers trembling, and touched his arm. The world froze. Memories not his own surged, lab rooms, blood tests, screams muffled by glass.

He saw Lyra strapped to a table, Rhea standing over her. Then a flash, his own face reflected in her eyes before everything went white.

They collapsed together. When Fred came to, he was lying on cold metal. The air smelled of ash. Lyra was gone.

Only her voice remained, echoing faintly inside his head. “They were right, Fred. You’re not their creation… you’re their correction.”

He sat up slowly, alone in the dark. “What does that mean?” he whispered.

No answer, only the whisper of static fading into silence. Then a light blinked on across the room, a single monitor, still working. On it, a message burned in red text: PHASE THREE INITIATED: RECLAMATION PROTOCOL – TARGET MILLER

Fred’s hands curled into fists. “No more running.”

He stood, the resonance humming low and dangerous under his skin. “Time to find out who I really am.”