Lucien's report was brief—too brief.
He stood before the council, voice steady, but his mind replayed the scene. The mist swallowing the battlefield. The screams fading into static. Then silence. When it cleared, only Isaac stood there.
The others had barely survived the surge. Whatever Isaac did inside, no one saw. No one could.
Lucien's words stayed formal, detached. "The target was neutralized. Casualties—minimal. The rune—unstable, but contained."
He didn't mention the head Isaac carried out of the mist, its expression frozen in terror and awe.
The council dismissed him with a nod, the screens flickering out one by one.
Later, Lucien walked down the dim hall to Isaac's quarters. The door opened with a hiss. The room looked less like living space and more like a containment cell—cold steel, no windows, cameras watching from every corner.
Isaac sat on the cot, head tilted down, the blindfold shadowing his face.
Lucien stood there for a moment, unsure. "I gave my report."
No answer.
"They'll probably want to run tests again."
A quiet sigh came from Isaac—barely a sound, but enough.
Lucien glanced at the cameras. "Do they really need that many?"
Silence.
He exhaled softly, turned, and left. The door sealed shut behind him.
Isaac sat still. The hum of the lights grew louder until it became a pulse.
Then the flashes came—
the white room.
Children screaming.
Walls smeared with blood.
Metal doors shaking under fists that never stopped pounding.
Isaac sighed, wondering when it would finally end.