I narrow my eyes.
“And by my own, I mean ours—me and you,” he adds quickly.
Aurora clears her throat.
“And Aurora.” He smirks.
“Now open it. I didn’t understand all of it, but the parts I did get… messed with my head. You need to see for yourself.”
I glance down at the folder, then back up at him, feeling unsure.
“Why are you showing me this now?”
“Honestly? I think you’ve already been through enough, and you deserve the truth.”
That pit in my stomach returns in full force as I peel the folder open.
The first few pages are thin and brittle, the edges yellowed from time. Faded printouts. Data logs. Scanned handwritten notes that bleed into the page like shadows. A photograph slips loose and flutters onto my lap—blurry, grayscale, the date printed across the top corner: March 3, 2266.
I hold the folder up and squint at the image.
A girl in a hospital gown stares back at me through a glasswindow. Her hair is long and tangled, her eyes pale and haunting, barely clinging to the life in them. But the face?—
My blood goes cold.
Aurora leans over my shoulder, breath catching. “Wait, is that?—”
“It’s you,” Cade finishes for her. “Or someone who looks exactly like you. The timestamps on the logs go back nearly a century.”
ChapterSix
LOG SIX – CELLULAR MUTATION ACCELERATES: HER BLOOD REJECTS EVERY LABEL WE GIVE IT. EVEN “HUMAN” FEELS LIKE A LIE.
I can’t stop staring.My fingers tremble around the edges of the photo.
“She was Subject One,” Cade continues, quieter now. “They called the project Viridian. There are notes in there about cellular regeneration, psychic transference, emotional dampening… It sounds a lot like Avidian, only more volatile. Less refined. There’s something in there about trying to create a cure or a weapon. I couldn’t tell which. Maybe both.”
I flip to the next page and find a scan of an old journal entry. The ink is faded and smudged in places, but the writing is still readable.
“Subject exhibits spontaneous cellular recovery at unprecedented speed. Blood reacts violently to direct stimulation, stabilizing only in proximity to another enhanced specimen. Emotional tethering may be the key to regulating destructive potential. Recommend cross-examination with Project M. Further testing required.”
“Malachi gave me a journal last night,” I murmur. “I didn’t bring it, but it’s in my bag on it’s way back with him. The notessounded almost identical to this and are dated three years before this photo. He thinks it’s about the first Avid, one they made by accident.”
Aurora leans back against the cushions, shaken. “This is the kind of shit that makes me miss the days when my biggest worry was finding my next meal, not unraveling the origin story of some lab-made demigod.”
I exhale slowly, eyes drifting back to the photo. “It’s not me. I mean, it can’t be. But what if she’s related to me somehow?”
Cade nods. “That’s what I wondered. When I first saw it, I thought I’d found you. But the date… didn’t make sense. Could be your grandmother. Or great-grandmother. Hell, a clone for all we know. If you look closely, there are subtle differences, but you have to be related.”
“I didn’t know any of my grandparents. I was told they died before I was born,” I say, but I’m starting to question everything I was told.
Everything I thought I knew about who I am.
“Kat, I know you’ve never liked using your gift—at least not back then—but maybe it’s time you start using it for your own answers,” Aurora says gently. “Stop letting everyone else benefit from it. Use it for you.”
“She’s right,” Cade adds. “I’ve heard what you can do. We need answers, and now you’ve got a photo. Why not try to reach out to whoever this is?”
A flush creeps up my neck, too hot all of a sudden. My chest tightens. I push off the couch and start pacing in front of the fire, needing to move, needing space to think.
