*MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS* Descreptive scenes of torture, kidnapping and hallucinations. PLEASE proceed with caution
The first thing I noticed was the pain. A dull, throbbing ache radiated from my wrists, my head pounding like I'd been struck by a sledgehammer. My eyelids felt heavy, weighted, but I forced them open, blinking against the dim, flickering light overhead. The smell of damp concrete and mildew hit me next, sharp and sour, making my stomach churn.
I was lying on a cold, hard surface—metal, maybe—my body twisted awkwardly. My arms were bound behind my back, the rough bite of rope cutting into my skin. Panic began to creep in, prickling along my spine as I twisted against the restraints. Where was I? What happened?
"Miras?" I croaked, my voice hoarse and raw. The name tasted desperate on my tongue, but no answer came. Only the hum of the fluorescent light and the distant drip of water somewhere in the room.
I forced myself to sit up, my body protesting with every movement. My legs were free, but the rope around my wrists was tight, digging deeper with each tug. The room spun as I moved, and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the nausea to pass. When I opened them again, I took in my surroundings.
The room was small, claustrophobic, and barren except for the metal table I was lying on and a single chair shoved into the corner. The walls were made of cracked concrete, streaked with grime, and the only light came from the buzzing fixture above me. There were no windows, just a heavy steel door with a sliding panel near the top, closed tight.
Panic clawed at my chest as the memory of last night—or what I thought was last night—came rushing back. Miras and I had stayed up late, talking about… us. About how we'd finally stopped dancing around everything. I remembered the warmth of his hand in mine, the soft laugh he gave when I told him I wasn't going to let him off the hook for being clueless.
And then… nothing. A blank space where my memories should have been.
My breath came quicker now, the air feeling thin and suffocating. "Miras!" I yelled, my voice echoing off the walls. "Dad? Imani? Anyone?" My voice cracked, but I didn't care. I pulled at the ropes harder, ignoring the burn against my skin. "Let me out of here!"
The sound of footsteps—measured, deliberate—echoed from the other side of the door. My heart dropped into my stomach as the sliding panel opened with a harsh scrape. A pair of cold, calculating eyes peered through.
Dr. Amar.
"You're awake," he said, his voice calm, almost clinical. Like this was just another experiment in his lab. "Good. That saves me the trouble of waiting."
I stared at him, my chest heaving as fear coursed through me. "What… what is this? Why am I here?"
He didn't answer immediately. The panel slid shut, and a moment later, the door creaked open. He stepped inside, his pristine white lab coat a stark contrast to the grimy surroundings. He held a tablet in one hand, the faint glow of its screen reflecting off his glasses.
"Cherish," he began, his tone almost patronizing, "you've been holding out on me."
I frowned, confusion cutting through my panic. "What are you talking about? I haven't done anything—"
"Oh, but you have," he interrupted, stepping closer. He gestured toward my wrist, and I glanced down, realizing the bracelet Miras had given me was gone. My stomach twisted.
"You… you took it," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Why? What does it—"
"It's not the bracelet I'm after," he said, his voice sharpening. "It's the energy it contained. Energy that, thanks to you, has now transferred into your body."
I froze, the weight of his words sinking in like a stone. "What are you talking about?" I managed, though I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer.
Dr. Amar sighed, like I was a particularly slow student. "The bracelet was more than a trinket. It was the key to unlocking the cube's full potential. But you wore it for too long, and now its energy has… bonded with you. Which means," he leaned in, his eyes narrowing, "you are the key."
My blood ran cold. "You're insane," I spat, trying to mask the rising terror in my voice. "You can't just—"
"Oh, I can," he said, straightening. "And I will. You've become the final piece in a puzzle I've been trying to solve for years. The cube needs that energy to activate, and I need the cube to open. Unfortunately for you, the process of extracting that energy is… messy."
My stomach lurched, bile rising in my throat. "You're going to kill me," I whispered.
Dr. Amar smiled, a chilling, detached expression. "If that's what it takes to open the doorway, then yes."
I yanked at the ropes again, desperate now, but his gaze never wavered. He tapped something on the tablet, then turned toward the door. "I suggest you prepare yourself, Cherish. You have a long day ahead of you."
The door slammed shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot. And for the first time, I realized just how alone I was—and just how far Dr. Amar was willing to go.
The door creaked open again sometime later, and Dr. Amar strode back in. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he wanted me to feel every second of dread building inside me. The fluorescent light flickered above, casting eerie shadows across his face. He wasn't bothering to hide it now—the way his eyes seemed just a little too sharp, a little too alien. The cold veneer of humanity he'd worn for so long was cracking, and what lay beneath was terrifying.
He pulled the chair from the corner and set it down in front of me, its legs scraping against the concrete floor. Sitting down, he adjusted his coat as though this were some casual conversation over coffee, not an interrogation in a dungeon-like room. His calculating gaze raked over me, and I fought to keep my expression steady, to mask the panic rising in my chest.
"You're surprisingly calm, considering your predicament," he said, tilting his head. His voice had changed—lower, more guttural, like it didn't quite belong to the human form he inhabited. "But then, you always were more resilient than I expected."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I shot back, though my voice trembled. "You've clearly lost your mind, but I'm not going to play whatever sick game this is."
Dr. Amar's lips curled into a cold, humorless smile. "Oh, Cherish. This isn't a game. Not anymore. Though I must admit, I did enjoy watching you stumble through the pieces of it without realizing you were at the center all along."
I stiffened, his words chilling me to my core. "What do you mean, 'watching me'?"
He leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs as though settling in for a long story. "I've been keeping an eye on you for quite some time. Longer than you—or even Miras—realized. After all, you and I had a… shared acquaintance not too long ago."
My stomach dropped. "Shared—what are you—?"
"Washington," he interrupted smoothly, his eyes glinting. "The decathlon trip. I wasn't there in this form, of course, but I'm sure you remember the incident. The fight. The chaos."
My throat tightened as the memories came rushing back. "You…" My voice faltered. "You're the alien he fought."
"Dr. Death," he said, the name rolling off his tongue like a taunt. "The one your charming boyfriend so valiantly thought he destroyed. A shame, really. He didn't quite finish the job."
I couldn't breathe. My mind reeled, the pieces clicking into place in the worst way. "You've been following us this whole time?" I whispered.
"Not just following," he corrected. "Guiding. Manipulating. I knew Miras would give you that bracelet—he has a talent for grand, sentimental gestures, doesn't he? What he didn't realize was the object your father had you blow up on that ship was the original key to the cube. The object might be gone but its energy soaked itself into the crystals in your bracelet, and then soaked itself into you. It ran through your bloodstream, through your heart and your body magnified it—made it stronger. It was the perfect conduit. And when you put it on… well, let's just say it made you uniquely valuable."
"You planned this," I said, my voice shaking with both rage and fear. "You used him. You used me."
He shrugged, utterly unrepentant. "I saw an opportunity, and I took it. And now, here we are."
I glared at him, my hands clenching into fists despite the restraints. "Why? What's so important about this cube? Why go through all of this just to open it?"
Dr. Amar's smile faded, replaced by a look of cold intensity. "Because the cube is the key to everything. It holds the power to rewrite reality itself. Entire civilizations—my own included—have fought and died for it. When I first acquired it, I thought I could control it, bend it to my will. But I underestimated its power. It corrupted my own people, drove them mad. They turned on me, took the cube, and locked it away behind layers of security that even I couldn't penetrate."
He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a near-growl. "They thought they'd hidden it forever. That no one would ever be able to access its secrets again. But they didn't count on me. I've spent lifetimes searching for it, planning for this moment. And now, thanks to you, I'm closer than I've ever been."
My blood turned to ice. "If it's so dangerous, why do you want to open it? Don't you see what it could do?"
"Of course I see," he snapped, his composure slipping for the first time. "That's the point. The cube's power is limitless—an infinite number of realities, all within my grasp. Do you have any idea what that means? What I could become?"
"You'll destroy everything," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
His gaze hardened. "Destruction is inevitable, Cherish. The question is, who will be the one holding the reins when it happens? Me? Or some other pretender who doesn't understand what they're dealing with–like your father. No. I won't let that happen. This power belongs to me. And you—" He stood, towering over me now, his shadow stretching across the floor. "You will give it to me. One way or another."
I glared up at him, my heart racing. "You won't win," I said, my voice stronger than I felt. "Miras will come for me. And he'll stop you."
Dr. Amar's laugh echoed through the room, cold and mocking. "Let him try. He couldn't stop me then, and he won't stop me now."
The room was different this time. Larger. Colder. The flickering fluorescent light had been replaced by harsh, sterile beams overhead, and the air smelled sharp, metallic—like blood and burning wires. The metal table beneath me was gone, replaced by a reclined chair, its surface eerily smooth and curved to hold my body in place. Thick straps encased my wrists, ankles, and chest, pinning me down. No amount of struggling would loosen them. I'd already tried.
Dr. Amar stood a few feet away, adjusting something on a sleek, high-tech console. The soft beeping of machines filled the room, joined by the low hum of unseen energy pulsing through the walls. He moved methodically, like a surgeon preparing for an operation—except I was the patient, and this wasn't about healing. This was about extraction.
He glanced at me, his expression unreadable, before flipping a switch. A large, mechanical arm descended from the ceiling, its base smooth and polished, but the end of it was fitted with a needle-like apparatus that glowed a faint, eerie blue. I stiffened.
"What—" My voice cracked, but I swallowed my fear. "What is that?"
Dr. Amar gave me a mild, almost detached look. "An energy siphon." He tapped the console, and the arm whirred to life, rotating with inhuman precision. "Your body has absorbed the energy from the bracelet over time, bonding with it at a molecular level. This device will extract that energy and separate it from your biological matter."
I stared at him, my pulse thudding against my ribs. "You mean separate it from me."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, like he was pleased I'd figured it out. "Yes."
Panic surged through me, making my breath quicken. "You don't know what'll happen if you do that! If it's bonded with me, then—"
"Then the procedure will be… risky," he admitted, adjusting another dial. "But science requires sacrifice."
I pulled against the restraints again, my wrists burning from the friction. "And if it kills me?"
Dr. Amar didn't even hesitate. "Then we'll know it wasn't a viable method."
Ice shot through my veins. He didn't care. He wasn't even pretending to.
The machine beeped. The needle pulsed brighter, the energy swirling inside it like liquid lightning. I sucked in a breath as the arm lowered toward me, stopping just inches from my chest, right above where my heart pounded wildly.
"You might feel some discomfort," Dr. Amar said, his voice infuriatingly calm.
Before I could scream at him, the machine activated.
Pain.
Blinding, searing, unreal pain erupted through my chest, like something was ripping me apart from the inside. It wasn't just physical—it was deep, cutting through me at the very core. My vision blurred, my body arching violently against the restraints as a sickening, wrenching sensation coiled around my ribs. It felt like something was being pulled from me, something vital, something I needed.
I gasped, choking on a sob, my entire body shaking. I could feel it—my energy, my essence, myself—being drawn toward the siphon. The blue glow intensified, crackling now, sparks of light dancing along my skin. Every nerve screamed in protest.
"Fascinating," Dr. Amar murmured, watching the readouts on his screen. "The energy isn't separating easily. It's resisting."
I barely heard him over the roaring agony inside me. My vision darkened at the edges, my head lolling as waves of nausea rolled over me. If this didn't stop soon, I wasn't sure I'd survive it.
Then, something changed.
A surge of power—foreign yet familiar—snapped back through me like a rubber band stretched too far and released. The siphon sparked violently, its blue glow flickering as if something inside it had short-circuited. The pain twisted, then reversed, rushing back into me like a dam breaking.
The machine let out a sharp beep before a shower of sparks rained down. The mechanical arm jerked wildly, and the glow in the needle exploded, sending a blast of blue energy surging outward.
The siphon exploded in a burst of blinding white light, sending tendrils of energy crackling through the air. The force knocked Dr. Amar backward, his coat whipping around him as alarms blared. The mechanical arm convulsed, sparking violently before the entire machine gave one last shudder—then collapsed, metal groaning as it crumpled inward like a dying star.
My screams of agony eventually died down into quiet whimpers.The sparks fluttered down from the machine onto my skin and around my body. Dr. Amar was groaning from somewhere in the room. His own machine had sent him flying.
I forced myself to lift my head, my vision still blurry from the lingering pain. Smoke curled from the destroyed siphon, its metal frame twisted and sparking, the once-pristine surface scorched and ruined. The acrid scent of burnt wires and singed air filled my lungs as I gasped for breath.
Across the room, Dr. Amar pushed himself onto his elbows, his face contorted in frustration. His lab coat was disheveled, one sleeve torn from the force of the explosion. His hands shook slightly, but when he looked at me, his dark eyes gleamed with something even more terrifying than rage—fascination.
"Incredible," he murmured, staring at me like I was the most valuable specimen he had ever seen.
I shrank back, still too weak to stand, but my pulse pounded in my ears. Every instinct screamed at me to run.
Dr. Amar sat up fully, brushing ash from his sleeve as if this were just a minor inconvenience. "You didn't just resist the extraction, Cherish," he said, his voice eerily calm. "You overpowered it."
I clenched my fists, swallowing down the lingering ache in my throat. "Yeah? Guess that ruins your little experiment, doesn't it?"
His lips curled into a slow smile. "On the contrary." He motioned toward the wreckage of the siphon. "This proves that the energy isn't just bonded to you—it's become a part of you. You are no longer just the key." He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "You are the lock as well."
A cold shiver ran through me, but I forced myself to keep my face neutral. I didn't want him to see how deeply his words unsettled me.
Dr. Amar pulled himself to his feet with a grunt, rolling his shoulders before stepping toward me. I flinched, but he didn't grab me. Instead, he studied me like a puzzle, like he was already planning his next move.
"This changes everything," he mused, almost to himself. "I'll have to modify my approach. A different extraction method, perhaps."
Panic surged through me. He wasn't giving up. If anything, this had excited him.
Dr. Amar inspected his machine, seemingly unfazed by it's destruction.
"You put that machine anywhere near me again and I guarantee I'll turn it into dust," I spat, spitting some of my own blood onto the floor.
Dr. Amar sighed, like a disappointed teacher. "It was a reflex, Cherish. A reaction to pain. You can't summon it at will because you don't understand it." Then he smiled. "You don't even know how you did that, do you?"
He was right, but I wasn't about to admit it.
"Just to be safe, I'll give you something to help you…relax, per say."
"You're drugging me," I deadpanned.
"I prefer to work in silence, listening to you scream and constantly trying to escape would put a damper on my work."
My stomach twisted at his words. I pressed my back tighter against the wall, eyeing every corner of the room for a way out. Nothing. Just smoke, sparks, and the faint hum of the ruined machine in the background. Dr. Amar walked calmly to a nearby tray, his movements too casual for the situation.
"You won't get away with this," I snarled, trying to keep my voice steady. But it was hard with my legs trembling beneath me and the metallic taste of blood still on my tongue.
Dr. Amar gave a small laugh as he picked up a syringe filled with something faintly glowing and green. "That's such a predictable thing to say. Tell me, Cherish—who's going to stop me? Your father, who hasn't the faintest clue where you are? Your little boyfriend, Miras?" He smirked at that last part. "He doesn't even know the full truth, does he? About me, about the cube, about you."
"Don't," I growled, the word low and feral, even as my voice cracked.
He tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Don't what? Mention how conveniently everything aligned? How Miras handing you that bracelet was the final piece of the puzzle? I bet you don't even know how much of a perfect fit you are." He stepped closer, syringe in hand, his eyes dark and calculating.
I tensed, my entire body ready to move—though where I could go was anyone's guess. "Stay the hell away from me."
"You should be thanking me," he said, his voice almost cheerful as he took another step. "Without me, you'd just be some ordinary girl with no idea of the power inside her. But now, thanks to my work, you're going to be remembered as the one who unlocked the doorway to everything. Infinite universes. Infinite knowledge. All of it—because of you."
"I'd rather die," I spat.
Dr. Amar's smile faltered for the briefest second before he chuckled. "Oh, let's not be dramatic. I don't want you dead, Cherish. I want you alive. At least for as long as it takes to finish the work."
Hurry up Miras.
Darkness wrapped around me like a suffocating fog, thick and unyielding. But then—a voice. Low, urgent. Familiar.
Miras.
The scene flickered to life around me like a film reel sputtering to motion. I stood in the corner of my dad's lab, unseen, as if I were nothing more than a ghost. Miras was there, pacing, fists clenched, his entire body taut with frustration. His usually calm, steady presence was shattered—his breaths ragged, his jaw tight.
"I swear, if you're joking about this, Imani—" His voice was sharp, barely controlled.
"I'm not joking!" Imani shot back, looking just as panicked. "She's gone, Miras! I checked her room, the lab, everywhere! No one's seen her since last night!"
Miras shook his head, running a hand through his hair, his whole body trembling with barely restrained energy. "No," he said, like he could force reality to bend to his will. "That doesn't make sense. She wouldn't just disappear. She—"
His voice cracked.
Imani sighed, pressing a hand against his forehead like he was trying to push back the worst-case scenario. "Look, I don't know what happened. But her phone, her bag, her stuff—it's all here. She wouldn't just leave without saying something. And the cameras—"
Miras snapped his head up. "What about the cameras?"
Imani hesitated.
"What about the cameras, Imani?!"
"They were wiped."
Silence. Thick. Heavy. The kind that sucked all the air from the room.
Miras' entire expression shifted—darkened. His breathing slowed, his shoulders straightened, and for the first time, I saw something I had only ever caught glimpses of before: pure, unrelenting fury.
His voice was deadly quiet when he spoke again. "Who?"
Imani swallowed hard. "I—I don't know. But—"
"Who?" Miras repeated, more forcefully.
I could feel the shift in the room. Miras wasn't panicking anymore. He wasn't pacing, wasn't unraveling. He was calculating.
My heart ached.
I wanted to scream, to reach for him, to tell him I was right here, that I needed him, that Dr. Amar had me, that I was running out of time.
But I had no voice.
The dream twisted, and suddenly, Miras was no longer in the lab. He was outside, storming toward his car, his movements sharp, his eyes burning with something I had never seen before—vengeance.
A storm was coming.
And Miras was at its center.
The scene shifted again, warping like ripples in water. The lab, the car, the biting edge of Miras' fury—all of it dissolved into something else entirely.
Now, I was in a dimly lit alley, the neon glow of streetlights casting long, fractured shadows on the wet pavement. Miras was there, moving like a predator, every step sharp, controlled. His breath fogged in the cold night air, but his eyes—his eyes burned with fire.
He wasn't alone.
Imani stood beside him, arms crossed, but his usual easygoing nature was nowhere to be found. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his shoulders tight with tension.
Ahead of them, a man I didn't recognize was cowering against a graffiti-streaked wall. His hands were raised in surrender, but Miras wasn't backing off.
"You're going to tell me exactly what happened to Cherish," Miras said, his voice steady, but lethal.
The man shook his head frantically. "I—I don't know, man! I swear!"
Miras lunged forward, grabbing the guy by the collar and slamming him against the wall. "Wrong answer."
I flinched.
I had never seen Miras like this. Not when we were fighting off alien creatures in Washington, not when we were racing against time to keep the cube from falling into the wrong hands. Not even when his own life was on the line.
This was different.
This was personal.
"Listen to me," Miras growled, his grip tightening. "Someone erased the security footage. Someone took her, and I know you've heard something."
The guy's breath hitched. "I—I don't—"
Miras shoved him harder. "Think."
The man whimpered, glancing wildly at Imani for help, but Imani just stared, his face unreadable.
"Okay, okay!" the guy wheezed. "There was talk—just whispers, man! Some scientist, someone high up, pulling strings. But that's all I know! I swear!"
Miras stilled.
Imani stepped forward. "A scientist?"
The man nodded frantically. "Yeah, yeah! Some guy with connections. I don't know his name, but I heard he's been after the cube for years. Said he had it once, lost it, and now—now he's got the key."
A horrible, crushing silence followed.
Miras let go of the man, letting him slump against the wall, gasping for breath.
I knew what was coming before he even said it.
"Dr. Amar."
The name fell from Miras' lips like a curse.
The world around me shuddered.
I felt my dream-self reaching out, trying to touch him, to make him hear me. "Miras, I'm here! Please—please find me!"
But my voice was nothing more than an echo swallowed by the wind.
Miras turned away from the man, his expression like carved stone. Cold. Unforgiving.
"I'm going to kill him," he murmured, mostly to himself.
Imani exhaled sharply. "Miras—"
"I am," Miras said, his voice unwavering.
The air around me crackled, the dream fracturing at the edges. My heart pounded.
Miras was coming for me.
I just had to hold on long enough for him to find me.
The first thing I noticed was the cold.
Not the sharp, biting kind, but the deep, marrow-chilling cold that seeped beneath my skin, wrapping around my bones like frost. My breath came in ragged gasps, each one visible in the sterile, artificial light of the lab.
The second thing I noticed was that I couldn't move.
Thick metal restraints bound my wrists and ankles to a steel operating chair, the edges digging into my skin. I struggled, yanking hard, but they didn't budge. Panic clawed at my throat as I lifted my head, my mind still sluggish from whatever Dr. Amar had injected into me after the first failed experiment.
He was standing across the room, methodically adjusting a panel of controls, his expression disturbingly calm. Wires snaked from the console to a new machine—larger, bulkier than the last one, its surface lined with glass tubes filled with a swirling, iridescent liquid.
"Ah, you're awake," Dr. Amar said without looking at me. He flicked a switch, and a low hum filled the room.
With a press of a button, the chair jerked beneath me. My restraints tightened, locking me in place. Thin, metallic bands slithered out from the sides, wrapping around my arms and pressing cold metal plates against my skin.
Then, the machine roared to life.
A sharp, electric heat pulsed through the plates, surging up my arms like wildfire. I gasped, arching against the restraints as pain exploded inside me—not just pain, power. The energy buried deep within me was being forced to the surface, dragged out like a caged beast wrenched from its prison.
The machine fed on it, expanded it.
The power inside me twisted, uncoiling with a force that made my teeth clench. Every nerve in my body burned. I could feel it spreading through my veins like molten fire, searing and alive.
Dr. Amar watched with fascination. "Remarkable," he murmured. "I can see it moving through you. The way it reacts, the way it resists—fascinating."
The burning turned volatile. Wild. It didn't want to be controlled.
I ignored the ice in my veins and glared at him. "I told you—you're not getting the energy out of me."
He finally turned, his smile patient, almost amused. "Oh, Cherish. You misunderstand." He stepped closer, placing a hand on the edge of the chair. "I'm not going to take it from you this time."
A sharp chill crawled up my spine.
"What the hell does that mean?" I asked, my voice tighter than I wanted it to be.
Dr. Amar leaned in, his eyes gleaming with something dark and unreadable. "It means I'm going to amplify it."
I stilled.
He stepped back, moving toward the machine. "The energy inside you is raw. Untamed. It only activates when you're in pain or under extreme stress—like an animal backed into a corner. But imagine," he mused, flipping another switch, "if I could train it. Push you past your limits. Make it stronger."
I swallowed hard. "You're insane."
Dr. Amar chuckled. "I've been called worse."
The machine began to whine, the glass tubes shaking violently as the swirling liquid inside turned from iridescent blue to a blinding, crackling white. The wires feeding into the chair sparked, spitting embers across the floor.
Dr. Amar's eyes widened. He reached for the controls, flipping switches in rapid succession. "No, no, no, not yet—"
The energy exploded.
The machine let out a high-pitched shriek before the glass tubes shattered, sending shards flying across the room. A force wave blasted outward, ripping the restraints from the chair and sending Dr. Amar crashing into the far wall.
I collapsed forward, gasping, my body still trembling with the aftershocks of power. Smoke filled the air, and somewhere in the haze, Dr. Amar groaned, pushing himself up.
His face was bruised, his lab coat scorched, but his expression was ecstatic.
"You're learning," he whispered, almost reverently.
I clenched my fists, my breath still shaky. The energy inside me was still there, crackling just beneath the surface, waiting.
And this time—I wasn't afraid of it.
Dr. Amar wiped blood from his chin and smirked.
"Let's do that again."
I staggered forward, my legs weak, muscles still trembling from the surge of power. The room around me was a mess—shattered glass littered the floor, smoke curled in the air, and sparks flickered from what was left of the machine.
Dr. Amar straightened, dusting himself off as if he hadn't just been thrown across the lab by his own creation. He was bleeding from a gash on his forehead, his left hand trembling slightly, but his smile—his twisted, satisfied smile—made my stomach turn.
"You're getting stronger," he mused, his voice light, pleased. "That's good. We'll push it further next time."
My breath hitched, my pulse hammering in my ears. Next time.
No.
There wasn't going to be a next time.
I forced my legs to cooperate, stumbling back a step as my body fought against the lingering ache. My wrists burned where the restraints had been, but I ignored it. My mind raced, calculating—I had an opening. The machine was destroyed. The lab was in chaos.
I could run.
Dr. Amar tilted his head, watching me like he knew exactly what I was thinking. "You're wondering if you can make it out of here." He took a slow step forward, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Go ahead. Try."
I hesitated.
He smirked. "You think I wouldn't prepare for that?"
A sharp hiss filled the air.
Suddenly, the room tilted. My vision blurred, my balance slipping out from under me. My body felt wrong—too heavy, my limbs sluggish. My stomach twisted, a nauseating dizziness creeping in like thick fog.
Gas.
The bastard had filled the room with something while I was distracted.
I pressed a hand to my temple, swaying on my feet as my pulse pounded in my skull. My body wasn't reacting like it should—the power inside me, the energy that had just shattered his machine—it was there, but muffled, like something was pressing down on it.
"You didn't think I'd make that same mistake, did you?" Dr. Amar murmured, stepping closer. His voice was distant, distorted, like it was coming from underwater. "You're special, Cherish. But you're not unstoppable."
I dropped to my knees.
The floor was cold beneath my palms. The world was fading around the edges, my vision narrowing to nothing but Dr. Amar's looming silhouette.
He crouched down, reaching out and brushing a gloved finger along my jaw. I barely had the strength to flinch away.
"Don't look so defeated," he chided, his tone almost gentle. "This is progress. We're learning."
I forced my lips to move. My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. "I'll kill you."
He chuckled, standing. "You'll try."
The last thing I saw before darkness swallowed me was his smirk, his silhouette standing against the flickering lights of the ruined lab.
And then—nothing.
The darkness gave way to something else.
Wind howled through the night, rattling street signs and kicking up loose gravel as the city stretched out before me, cast in flickering neon and deep shadows. Rain slicked the pavement, pooling in gutters, dripping from rooftops. The air was thick—damp, electric, heavy with the storm on the horizon.
And in the middle of it all—Miras.
He was a blur of motion, his dark clothes soaked from the rain, his breath coming in hard, sharp exhales as he ran. His boots pounded against the pavement, his fists clenched at his sides. He moved like a man with nothing to lose, like stopping wasn't an option.
Because for him—it wasn't.
I followed, unseen, my heart hammering as I tried to keep up.
His face was set in hard lines, his eyes burning with something dangerous. Exhaustion clung to him, weighing down his limbs, but he didn't slow. He wouldn't.
Not until he found me.
He turned a corner, nearly colliding with someone on the sidewalk.
"Watch it," the man snapped.
Miras barely spared him a glance. "Have you seen this girl?" He yanked a crumpled photo from his jacket—a picture of me. The edges were worn, the ink slightly smudged from the rain. "Cherish. About this tall, dark hair, brown eyes."
The man barely glanced at it. "Nah, man—"
Miras grabbed him by the collar, his grip iron. "Look again."
The stranger's eyes went wide, fear flickering in them. He swallowed hard, shook his head. "I—I haven't seen her, I swear."
Miras exhaled sharply, shoving the man away before he turned, his gaze sweeping the streets. His hands were shaking. Not from fear—but from rage, from helplessness.
"This whole city," he muttered under his breath, his voice wrecked, "and not a single damn lead."
Lightning split the sky, illuminating his face for a heartbeat—his clenched jaw, the storm in his eyes.
I stepped closer, desperate. "Miras, I'm here—"
He stilled.
His head tilted slightly, his breath hitching, like—like maybe he could feel me, hear me, just for a second.
I reached out. My fingers ghosted over his arm. "Please—"
Then—
The world shattered.
The city cracked apart, swallowed by darkness, and suddenly I was falling—falling into the cold, into the pain, into the endless nothing—
And Miras' voice followed me, raw, determined, unyielding.
"I'll find you, Cherish."
I woke with a sharp gasp.
The dream clung to me like smoke, the echo of Miras' voice still ringing in my ears. My body jerked against the restraints as my mind scrambled to catch up—rain, pavement, Miras—but when my eyes adjusted to the dim, artificial light, reality came crashing back like a knife to the ribs.
The lab.
The cold metal chair.
Dr. Amar.
I wasn't running through the streets. I wasn't reaching for Miras. I was here, trapped in this sterile, suffocating room, strapped down like an experiment waiting to be dissected.
"Fascinating," Dr. Amar mused. His voice was smooth, clinical, but there was something too interested in his tone. "That was quite the reaction."
I blinked hard, my breaths coming quick and uneven as I turned my head. He was standing beside one of the remaining monitors, watching my vitals with rapt attention. His fingers hovered over the controls, a small smile playing at his lips.
I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. "What—" My voice cracked, weak, raw. "What did you do?"
Dr. Amar hummed. "Your brain activity spiked significantly during REM sleep. Higher than any normal human response to a dream." He turned, watching me with keen interest. "Tell me, Cherish—who were you dreaming about?"
I glared at him, refusing to answer.
His smile widened, like he already knew.
"Miras, I assume," he said lightly. "Your bond is… impressive, I'll admit. The two of you have always been attuned to each other, haven't you? Even when you don't realize it." He glanced back at the monitors. "But this—this is something else."
I clenched my fists. The restraints dug into my wrists, but I barely felt it past the rage boiling in my gut. "Why does it matter?" I snapped.
"Because," Dr. Amar said, stepping closer, "if he can feel you—if he's searching for you with such desperation—then we can use that."
My blood ran cold.
Dr. Amar reached out, tracing a gloved finger along the edge of my restraint. "Emotional connections are powerful things, Cherish. They fuel instincts, sharpen senses, drive people to do the impossible." He met my gaze, his own dark with satisfaction. "And in your case, they might be the key to unlocking everything."
I yanked against the restraints. "You're wasting your time."
He chuckled. "Oh, I don't think so."
Then, he pressed a button, and the machine roared back to life.
Pain lanced through me, white-hot and consuming, and the last thing I heard before the world blurred into agony was Dr. Amar's voice, calm and assured—
"Let's begin."
Pain ignited in my veins, sharp and all-consuming, like fire crawling beneath my skin. I gasped, my back arching against the restraints as the energy inside me fought back, surging and crackling against whatever Dr. Amar was trying to do. The machine whirred louder, its screen flashing with numbers and symbols I didn't understand, but I could feel what was happening.
It was pulling.
Trying to rip something out of me—something that wasn't meant to be separated.
I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached, refusing to give Dr. Amar the satisfaction of hearing me scream. My fingers curled into fists, nails biting into my palms as I forced myself to breathe through the agony.
Across the room, Dr. Amar watched me with calm fascination, hands folded behind his back. "This resistance is remarkable," he murmured, mostly to himself. "You are adapting. I wonder—" He pressed another button.
The pain doubled.
A strangled cry tore from my throat before I could stop it.
The power inside me reacted violently, sending sparks crackling across my skin, fighting against the machine's pull. But something was wrong—it wasn't enough. The restraints were reinforced this time, my limbs weak from the drugs, my mind slipping in and out of focus.
Dr. Amar tilted his head, his gaze flicking between me and the readings. "The energy is woven into you now," he mused. "It's merged with your body. Extracting it won't be as simple as I'd hoped." His eyes darkened, thoughtful. "But no matter. There's always a way."
I panted through clenched teeth, glaring up at him. "I told you—you're wasting your time."
He just smiled. "And I told you, Cherish—your emotions make you powerful. The question is, what happens when we push them?"
I barely had time to process his words before he moved to the side of the room. With a flick of his wrist, a screen buzzed to life, displaying grainy security footage.
My stomach twisted.
Because there, on the screen—was Miras.
Soaked from the rain. Pacing. Searching.
A jolt of energy surged through my chest.
Dr. Amar tsked, glancing between me and the screen. "He's been relentless, hasn't he? No regard for rules, for safety. He's been tearing through anyone who might have answers." He stepped closer, watching my face carefully. "You feel it, don't you? The way your power flares at the mere sight of him?"
I clenched my fists, trying to shove the feeling down, but—he was right.
Miras wasn't just looking for me. He was hunting for me. And I—I could feel him.
Like a tether pulling tighter. Like an unseen thread between us, humming with something real.
Dr. Amar smirked, satisfied. "This is what I needed to see." He reached for another dial, twisting it slowly. "Let's push that bond just a little further, shall we?"
The machine let out a high-pitched whine.
Pain tore through me again, but this time—it wasn't just pain.
It was Miras.
A sudden, overwhelming flood of emotion crashed into me—anger, desperation, fear—but none of it was mine. It was his.
I choked on a gasp. My vision blurred, my body shaking as the machine amplified whatever connection we had, forcing me to feel everything he was feeling, see flashes of what he was seeing.
Miras. A dark alley. A man pinned to the wall. His fists bloodied, his teeth clenched.
"Where is she?"
The image shifted—another street, another person—Miras' rage rolling off him in waves, his exhaustion barely keeping up with his determination.
"Tell me where she is, or I swear I'll—"
The machine's pull deepened, twisting something inside me. My breath stuttered, my vision flickering as my body couldn't keep up with the intensity of it.
Dr. Amar watched it all unfold with the air of a scientist observing a particularly interesting test subject. "Ah," he murmured, fascinated. "So, this is what happens when we push past the limits."
I gasped for air, barely able to keep hold of my own mind.
If this continued—if the connection was pushed too far—it could break something.
Or worse.
It could lead Miras straight here.
And I had no idea if that was what Dr. Amar wanted.
I had to stop this.
I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing, pushing back against the machine's pull, against the forced connection. I didn't know how to control the energy inside me, but I had to try.
I clenched my teeth, my entire body trembling with effort.
Then—
Something snapped.
A pulse of raw power exploded outward.
The machine sparked violently. The screens flickered. The air itself cracked with electricity—
And then—
Everything went dark.
For a few agonizing seconds, there was nothing.
No buzzing, no beeping, no hum of machinery.
Just silence.
Then—
Sparks rained down like dying fireflies.
The darkness was thick, suffocating. The acrid scent of burnt circuits filled my nose, mixing with the copper tang of my own blood. My pulse thundered in my ears as I forced my body to move, my muscles aching, trembling from the aftershock of whatever had just happened.
Dr. Amar cursed from somewhere in the dark. Metal scraped against the floor as he staggered to his feet.
I took a shuddering breath, chest heaving.
I did that.
Not the machine. Me.
The energy inside me—it wasn't just reacting anymore. It was fighting back.
A dim emergency light flickered on, painting the lab in eerie red hues. Dr. Amar's silhouette loomed in the haze of smoke curling from the destroyed machinery, his white coat singed at the edges.
His head tilted slightly as he studied me, something unreadable gleaming in his dark eyes. Then, slowly, he exhaled a laugh.
Low. Amused. Impressed.
"Well," he mused, dusting himself off. "That was unexpected."
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing. My wrists ached where the restraints had bitten into my skin, but—
Wait.
I flexed my fingers.
The restraints… weren't as tight anymore.
The power surge must have weakened them.
Hope flickered in my chest, dangerous and reckless. If I could just—
Dr. Amar's gaze flicked to my hands. He smirked. "Don't get any ideas."
Before I could react, he reached into his coat and pressed a button on a small device.
A shock jolted through my body.
White-hot pain tore through my nerves, ripping a strangled cry from my throat. My body seized up, every muscle locking tight as if I'd been hit with a live wire.
Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped.
I gasped, my vision swimming.
Dr. Amar crouched beside me, the small device still in his grip. "You may have shorted out one machine, but let's not forget who's in control here." He tapped the device against my temple, his voice almost gentle. "This little thing? Custom-made for you. If you so much as think about pulling that stunt again, I'll turn your nervous system into a live circuit."
I clenched my jaw, glaring up at him through the haze of pain.
He smiled. "Good girl."
I wanted to rip that smirk off his face.
I wanted to burn this entire place to the ground.
But I couldn't—not yet.
Not until I figured out how to control whatever was inside me.
Dr. Amar stood, stretching his arms like he was merely inconvenienced. "I suppose this means we'll have to start from scratch." He sighed, rubbing his chin. "No matter. There are always more tests to run."
His gaze flickered toward the broken remains of the machine.
Then, he laughed.
A quiet, knowing sound.
"Oh, Cherish." He turned back to me, something thrilled in his expression. "You have no idea what you just did, do you?"
I stiffened.
He took a slow step closer, leaning down until his face was inches from mine. His voice was almost reverent.
"You cracked the Cube."
My breath hitched.
No. No, that wasn't possible. The Cube had been locked, sealed for—for millions of years. It needed a key.
The bracelet.
Me.
Oh God.
Dr. Amar straightened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "I knew you were the perfect catalyst. And now? Well…" He spread his arms, as if presenting something grand. "Now, the real fun begins."
A chill crawled down my spine.
The Cube was cracked.
And whatever was inside—whatever had been locked away for so long—
Was about to be unleashed.