A distorted machine from hell.
My blood and Echo’s were siphoned out, drawn into the device between us. It spun and folded and churned until it began to take on a strange, unnatural glow.
Marr’s face grew hungrier.
The vial spun faster and faster—until the blood was divided, split cleanly into two streams.
My darker blood poured into Lyra.
The lighter flowed into David.
Both bodies convulsed.
I fought against my bindings. I kicked. I screamed. It felt like my soul was being ripped out through my veins, dragged from my body piece by piece.
Across from me, Echo writhed. She screamed without sound.
Then it happened.
Lyra’s skin began to pale—draining, emptying—
But David—
David was glowing.
The machine screamed.
Not an alarm — something deeper. A pitch that made my teeth ache and my vision fracture.
Lyra convulsed harder, her back arching off the gurney. Her eyes flew open, glassy and unfocused, her mouth opening in a silent cry. The wires glowed where they pierced her skin, dark light crawling up her veins like rot.
“No—” I sobbed. “Stop it. Please—stop—”
It is too much,Echo whispered, her voice no longer distant. It was tight. Strained.She cannot hold it.
Lyra’s heart rate spiked on the monitor. Faster. Faster. Then stuttered.
David gasped.
The glow inside him flared brighter, cleaner, stabilising. The light settled beneath his skin like it belonged there.
Lyra screamed.
Sound tore out of her at last — raw, animal, agonised. I felt it rip through me, through Echo, through the machine itself. It was like being flayed from the inside.
I thrashed against my restraints, choking on my own breath.
Marr didn’t even look at me.
Lyra’s scream cut off.
Her body went slack.
The monitor gave one long, flat tone.
Silence crashed into the room.
For a heartbeat, nothing moved.
