The bracelet on the man's wrist vibrated.
Once.
Twice.
He glanced down, annoyance flashing across his face before it was replaced with interest. He turned away from the glass, activating the call with a flick of his fingers. The projection shimmered briefly—then vanished.
"…I see," he said after a pause.
A thin smile crept onto his lips.
He turned sharply toward the room of scientists.
"Pack everything," he ordered. "We're relocating to the city. Immediately."
Confusion rippled through the room.
"Sir?" one of them asked. "What about—"
"I said everything," the man snapped. "This facility is no longer secure."
No one argued.
White coats moved in controlled panic. Devices were unplugged, rune-circuits deactivated, notes sealed and burned or encrypted. The hum of machines slowly died, leaving behind an eerie quiet.
"Send someone to clean her up," the man added casually. "I don't want her arriving looking like a corpse."
The door to the white room opened again.
This time, it wasn't torture that entered—but water, cloth, and silence.
A woman stepped in, dressed plainly, her expression detached. She moved efficiently, kneeling before the chained girl and beginning her work. She wiped dried blood from her skin, cleaned wounds just enough to keep them from festering, brushed tangled hair away from her face.
The girl didn't resist.
She watched.
Every movement.
Every breath.
When the woman finished, she reached for the final clasp—then paused.
The girl's hand moved.
Fast.
She grabbed the woman's wrist.
The moment skin touched skin, the air changed.
The girl's left eye snapped open—no longer silver, but a deep, consuming red. Dark veins, like living roots, surged from her eye and raced up the woman's arm, crawling across her neck, burrowing beneath her skin.
The woman's eyes rolled back, turning white.
She didn't scream.
She didn't even twitch.
She collapsed—dead before her body hit the floor.
The room fell silent again.
The girl breathed heavily, staring at the lifeless body at her feet. For a moment—just a moment—something like hope flickered across her face.
She reached for the keys at the woman's belt.
Almost.
Pain exploded through her hand.
A rune carved into the back of her palm flared violently, releasing a shock that tore a cry from her throat. Her muscles locked, her knees buckled, and she crashed back to the floor, chains rattling as the rune burned itself quiet once more.
The door slammed open.
Boots echoed.
Scientists poured in, followed by the man himself.
He took in the scene—the dead woman, the kneeling girl, the faint red glow still fading from her eye—and laughed.
A sharp, ugly sound.
He strode forward and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up.
Smack.
The slap echoed through the room as her head snapped sideways and she fell back to the floor.
"Ohhh," he said mockingly, crouching before her. "Trying to escape now? How adorable."
He leaned closer, voice dropping.
"There is no escape. This is your life."
His smile widened. "And I will find out what's giving you this… zeal."
He stood, dusting off his coat as if bored.
"Fortunately for you," he continued, "you're a pretty one. You've caught the attention of a king."
He chuckled. "Maybe he needs a new bed warmer."
"You'd sell for a very good price."
The girl lifted her head slowly.
Despite the pain.
Despite the chains.
Despite everything.
"You disgust me," she said.
The man's smile vanished.
He snapped his fingers.
"Take her."
The scientists moved in, grabbing her arms, dragging her across the white floor as chains scraped and blood smeared once more. She didn't scream.
She didn't beg.
But as they pulled her away, her silver eye flickered ,just once.