Page 140 of GlitchBorn Heart

His eyes cut to mine. “No,” he admits. “But it’s the only way to get you back in right now. I can’t get you out without getting you back in. Pretty fucked up, huh?” His hands tighten on the edge of the console like he’s holding himself back, fighting with his own logic.

Ember clears her throat softly, eyes flicking between us. “It’s stable,” she says, but the way she bites her lip tells me she’s lying. They’re both bullshitting for my benefit.

I step fully onto the pad. The blue light climbs my legs like a rising tide. Kael’s gaze stays locked on me. “You’re asking me to trust you again,” I whisper.

He walks to me, the good guy from last night peeking through. “I’m not asking, and you do trust me now, remember?” His voice is intimate. “I’m telling you, I won’t let you disappear. Not to Vikktor, not to LINK, not to the void.” He takes a breath, and for a heartbeat he looks younger, like the boy he must have been under Master Kenji’s watch. “Stay tethered to me. Remember last night. We’re better together.”

I glance over at Ember, at the sea of monitors, then back at Kael. “All right. I trust your judgment. Let’s do this.”

I close my eyes and focus on my emotions to push my magic outward. The way Kael looked last night tying me up. The untamed desire I feel for him now, despite his faults. Eli, the missing piece of my heart, and the infinite wish to have my parents back.

How ironic. The pain inside me will be the one thing that emerges from my magic and allow me to propel myself into a digital prison, only to be yanked back out.

For what reason? Obsession? Love? I don’t dare say that last word out loud. But would Kael?

He watches me from the center console, palms braced on it. Amber light climbs my body in thin lines, crawling like veins. I begin to see small scraps of code slowly scrolling by. I’m already slipping inward.

I should be used to this by now, the feel of my human side dissolving into code, but it’s different this time. Every flicker on the monitor feels like a pulse under my own skin. It’s taking too long. I begin to panic.

“Easy,” Kael pleads. I can barely hear him. “Slow. Don’t force it.” His fingers hover over the override key, but he doesn’t press it. He wants me to do this myself, knows I can do this myself. If I’m ever going to get out, I have to do my part.

I feel my holo-form flickering between solid and translucent, like glass catching light. The system fights me. I can sense LINK lurking in the periphery, subtle red warnings blooming on screen, but I dig in, magic sparking at my fingertips.

“Come on, Taiyō. You can do this. I believe in you.”

Kael. Only this man would cheer me on as I am taken away from him.

“Show me what you’ve learned.”

I breathe in and then out at the perfect time. For a tick, the entire grid goes white. I feel like my soul is being forced out of my body again. This isn’t normal. My scream comes through the speakers like a torn signal. Kael flinches but keeps his hand steady above the override. “If I yank you back now, I could lose you! Fight for me, Lyra!”

The monitors ripple with code and then stabilize. I can feel myself, half in, half out, my eyes fluttering under closed lids. My chest squeezes.

“LINK,” I hear Kael address her as he holds what looks like a DreamNet band in his hand. “Stand down, wait for my command. I’m loading an anomaly into the system.” The system pings, LINK’s presence thickening in the corners of the code like a predator.

YES KAEL.

Kael? What the hell? She has never called him by name. To her, he’s Dr. Ryudon. I squeeze my knuckles until they whiten. This was supposed to be easy, fast, safe. Now it feels like a war zone.

Alarms shriek across the lab, LINK’s voice echoing as she tightens her hold on me.

“LINK. I need you to ignore any data streams I’m pushing through. Testing in progress.”

AFFIRMATIVE DR. RYUDON

Can artificial intelligence lie? Certainly not with human intent, but I wouldn’t put it past her to generate a convincing falsehood. Biased data, deceptive strategies, false realities—she's capable of all of it. Especially when it comes to Kael.

That “affirmative” sounded a lot like a dismissal.

Ember’s fingers are all over the keys, panic flourishing across her face. My image appears on the screens; I’ve broken into the window program. One swipe, and she moves the feed up to the wall.

Halfway there. I see my image flicker on the screens; the cute cartoon avatar Kael created for me begins dissolving into code. My pulse spikes. If I don’t fight harder, I won’t make it back in.

Kael slams his hand into the console. “LINK override protocol. Full interface through DreamNet.”

The AI’s voice hisses back, distorted and far too human:

DENIED