SARAH

  The last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me was Tris.

  His face contorted in anguish, his body sprawled across the pavement where I'd kicked him to safety, his fingertips raw and bleeding as he clawed desperately toward me. Behind him, Eli's golden form materialized from particles of light, her hands reaching for him, tears streaming down her face as she screamed his name. Veldt—that strange shadow entity I'd once feared—flattened beneath Tris's torso, cushioning him from the rough concrete as he slid beyond the Zone's reach.

  I'd made my choice. The first real choice of my existence.

  As the black void descended, swallowing me completely, I thought: This is what freedom feels like.

  Then everything changed.

  The alley vanished. Kennedy and his associate disappeared from my peripheral vision. The cold Canadian night air was replaced by something stale and artificially warm. I blinked, disoriented by the sudden shift, my enhanced senses struggling to process the abrupt environmental change.

  Yellow. Everything was yellow.

  I stood in a vast, seemingly endless space. The walls, the ceiling, the floor—all the same shade of dingy yellow, like aged office wallpaper. Fluorescent lights stretched in perfectly straight lines across the ceiling, emitting an incessant buzzing that immediately set my teeth on edge. The air smelled of moist carpet and mildew, with undertones of something chemical I couldn't quite identify.

  The space was both empty and oppressive. No furniture, no windows, no visible exits—just an infinite grid of yellow walls meeting at right angles, extending beyond what even my enhanced vision could perceive.

  "Fascinating." Kennedy's voice came from behind me. "A highly specialized Coagulate Zone."

  I whirled to face him, automatically dropping into a defensive stance. He stood several meters away, his expensive coat somehow still immaculate despite our earlier combat. His associate flanked him, looking considerably more disheveled.

  "Where are we?" I demanded, my voice sounding oddly flat, as if the air itself absorbed the sound.

  Kennedy smiled, the expression never reaching his eyes. "You don't recognize it? The Anunnaki do love their cosmic jokes." He glanced around with clinical interest. "A manifestation based on human collective unconscious fear patterns. The 'Backrooms,' I believe it's called in certain online circles."

  I said nothing, my eyes tracking Kennedy's slightest movements while maintaining awareness of his associate's position. The constant fluorescent buzzing made it difficult to focus, like an electrical interference pattern designed specifically to disrupt my neural pathways.

  "No matter," Kennedy continued, clearing his throat. "ORT3 Coagulate Zone, designed for containment and assessment. Quite elegant, really."

  He turned to his associate, his demeanor shifting subtly. "Thank you for your service," he said with formal politeness. "Your sacrifice will be remembered."

  Before the man could respond, Kennedy's hand shot out, golden energy coalescing around his fingertips. With two precise, brutal strikes, he drove his energy-enhanced hands through his associate's chest, his body evaporating into golden light.

  I tensed, preparing for Kennedy to turn his attack on me next, but he merely shook his head as his associate's body disappeared. Kennedy watched dispassionately.

  "Why?" I asked, genuinely curious despite the danger.

  "Simple logistics," Kennedy replied matter-of-factly, wiping his hands with a monogrammed handkerchief. "Intentional deaths within System parameters simply bring you to your Oversoul dimension." He tucked the handkerchief away. "Besides, two-way hunts get messy." He continued explaining, though I hadn't asked further. "Returning to the Oversoul… a pleasant experience. Death within System parameters is quite, hmm, euphoric."

  I backed away slowly, calculating distances, mapping potential routes through the endless yellow corridors stretching behind me. Kennedy noticed, of course.

  "Running would be futile," he said. "This Zone is designed to disorient and exhaust. Besides, we could work together. Two skilled players would have better odds than one."

  "I don't trust Luciferian agents," I replied flatly.

  Kennedy laughed, the sound echoing strangely in the buzzing space. "Says the engineered Sentinel who betrayed her creators. Oooh the irony…"

  I ignored the taunt, my mind racing through possibilities. I needed distance, time to assess this environment, to understand its rules and parameters. Kennedy was right about one thing—Coagulate Zones combined all five Zone categories, making them the most unpredictable and dangerous.

  "You're right about futility," I said, feigning resignation. "This space seems designed for disorientation."

  Kennedy nodded, apparently satisfied by my capitulation. "A wise assessment. The Zone appears to be based on the concept of infinite, identical, liminal spaces. Quite cleverly constructed to—"

  I moved before he finished his sentence, launching myself backward and immediately changing direction, darting down one of the identical yellow corridors at my top speed. Kennedy's surprised exclamation faded behind me as I ran, taking random turns, letting my Nephilim-enhanced instincts guide me through the labyrinthine space.

  Left, right, right, left—I moved with all the speed my altered physiology could muster, putting as much distance between Kennedy and myself as possible. The corridors all looked identical—same yellow wallpaper, same stained carpet, same buzzing fluorescent lights—but I marked my passage by memorizing the specific pattern of water stains on the ceiling, the subtle variations in the carpet's wear.

  I ran until even my enhanced stamina began to flag, finally slowing to assess my surroundings. The buzzing overhead seemed to have increased in volume, or perhaps my senses had simply become more attuned to it. The air tasted stagnant, artificially circulated without freshness.

  Had I actually made progress, or was I running in circles? The endless yellow sameness made it impossible to be certain. I leaned against a wall, listening intently for any sign of pursuit, but heard nothing beyond the incessant electrical hum.

  I don't know how long I stood there—minutes, perhaps, or hours. Time felt strangely elastic in this place. Eventually, I pushed off from the wall and continued moving, this time at a more sustainable pace. This Coagulate Zone would contain elements of all five Zone categories—physical, mental, social, survival, and magical challenges combined.

  The physical challenge was obvious—navigating this seemingly endless maze. The mental aspect too—maintaining sanity and direction in a place designed to disorient. Survival would come into play if the Zone lasted long enough for biological needs to become pressing. But the social and magical elements remained unclear.

  I moved methodically now, marking turns with small tears in the wallpaper to track my progress. After what felt like hours of walking, I encountered my first anomaly—a door, set into the yellow wall where corridors intersected. It was brown, wooden, unremarkable except for its unexpectedness in this doorless environment.

  I approached cautiously, examining it for traps or triggers. Nothing obvious presented itself. The handle turned easily in my grip, and the door swung inward without resistance.

  Beyond lay a conventional office space—cubicles arranged in neat rows, desktop computers with black screens, rolling chairs tucked precisely under desks. Like the corridors, everything was abandoned, covered in a fine layer of dust that suggested long disuse. The fluorescent lights buzzed here too, casting the same sickly glow over the empty workstations.

  I entered warily, every sense alert for threats or opportunities. The office seemed perfectly ordinary apart from its emptiness and the unsettling feeling of wrongness that permeated the space. I moved between the cubicles, checking drawers and cabinets, finding only empty folders and useless office supplies.

  In the back corner, I discovered a break room with a sink. I turned the tap cautiously, half-expecting nothing, but water flowed—lukewarm and tasting faintly metallic. I drank deeply, suddenly aware of a thirst I hadn't consciously registered. If the Zone followed physical logic, I would need to secure water sources to survive extended containment.

  A sound stopped me mid-drink—a soft shuffling from somewhere beyond the break room. I froze, water dripping from my chin, listening intently. There it was again—something moving among the cubicles, disturbing the perfect stillness.

  I moved silently toward the sound, keeping low, my body automatically shifting into combat readiness. At the edge of the cubicle area, I peered carefully around a partition.

  Nothing visible moved in the dim office space, but the sound continued—a rhythmic scuffing against carpet, like something being dragged. I scanned methodically, my enhanced vision penetrating the shadows between desks, searching for the source.

  There—a slight movement near the far wall. I focused, straining to make out details in the gloom. Something pale shifted in the darkness, approximately human-sized but wrong in its proportions. As I watched, it moved again, sliding along the wall with unnatural smoothness, its form seeming to fluctuate between solid and indistinct.

  I weighed my options. Confront the entity? Retreat to the corridors? The decision was made for me when the thing suddenly stopped moving and rotated what appeared to be its head, facing directly toward my position. I couldn't make out features—just an impression of paleness against the shadow—but I felt with absolute certainty that it had become aware of me.

  I backed away slowly, maintaining visual contact while retreating toward the office entrance. The entity remained motionless, seemingly tracking me without eyes I could discern. I reached the door and slipped through it, pulling it closed behind me with deliberate gentleness.

  Back in the yellow corridors, I moved quickly away from the office, taking multiple turns to break line of sight in case the entity followed. The encounter had confirmed my suspicion—this Zone contained more than empty spaces. Something else was here with us.

  I continued through the endless corridors, encountering more anomalous features as I progressed. Some walls featured sections where the yellow wallpaper peeled away, revealing concrete or sometimes odd symbols etched into the underlying surface. Occasionally the fluorescent lighting flickered or failed completely, leaving stretches of corridor in near-darkness that even my enhanced vision struggled to penetrate.

  After what felt like days of wandering—though without any natural light cycle, time remained impossible to track—I discovered a new area. The yellow corridors opened suddenly into a vast chamber with a ceiling that soared upward beyond visibility. The space contained what appeared to be architectural fragments—partial staircases that led nowhere, door frames without doors, window-like openings in free-standing wall sections.

  It reminded me of a museum exhibition of deconstructed buildings, or perhaps a storage area for discarded set pieces. I moved cautiously into this new environment, noting that the omnipresent buzzing was more subdued here, replaced by an occasional distant dripping sound that echoed through the cavernous space.

  A staircase to my right caught my attention—unlike the fragmentary structures around it, this one appeared complete, ascending about twenty feet to a platform that supported what looked like an office module, similar to the one I'd discovered earlier. I climbed the stairs, alert for any sign of the pale entity or other threats.

  The office module proved to be a replica of the previous one, down to the arrangement of cubicles and the break room in the back corner. But while the layout was identical, the details differed—these computers showed signs of use, with coffee cups on desks and chairs pulled out at odd angles. Personal items decorated some workstations—family photos, small plants long dead from lack of care, motivational posters curling at the edges.

  I searched more thoroughly this time, checking each desk for anything useful. In a drawer of what appeared to be a manager's office, I found an actual prize—a small flashlight that, remarkably, still functioned when I clicked the button. Its beam was weak but better than nothing for the darker sections of the Zone.

  I was about to leave when I noticed something unusual on one of the desks—a framed photograph showing a group of people in business attire, smiling for the camera. What made it unusual was that every face in the image had been scratched out with what looked like considerable force, the glass cracked above each defacement.

  As I set the photo down, I heard it again—that shuffling sound from before. It came from directly beneath the platform, something moving among the architectural fragments below. I crept to the edge and peered over, using my position to survey the area.

  The pale entity from before—or one very similar—moved through the fragments, sliding between broken walls and climbing over partial structures with unsettling grace. From my elevated position, I could see it more clearly now—humanoid but wrong, its limbs too long and jointed in impossible places, its skin a sickly white that seemed to repel shadow. Its head was featureless from this angle, a smooth oval without visible eyes or mouth.

  I remained perfectly still, watching as it navigated the space with apparent purpose, stopping occasionally as if listening or sensing for something. Eventually, it moved away from the platform, disappearing behind a large wall fragment on the far side of the chamber.

  I waited several minutes to ensure it was truly gone before descending the stairs, moving in the opposite direction from where the entity had disappeared. This chamber of fragments offered more variety than the endless corridors, but also more exposure—fewer places to hide if Kennedy or the entity discovered me.

  At the far end of the chamber, I found another anomaly—a narrow gap between two concrete walls, barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through. Beyond it, I could see a different environment—something that glinted metallically in the dim light.

  I slipped through the gap, emerging into a space that defied the established pattern entirely. I stood on a metal catwalk suspended above what appeared to be an industrial facility of some kind—massive pipes and machinery stretched below, disappearing into darkness. Unlike the office spaces and yellow corridors, this area felt genuinely abandoned rather than artificially empty.

  The catwalk extended in both directions, connecting to other elevated platforms and additional catwalks in a complex network. The buzzing of fluorescent lights was replaced here by the occasional groan of settling metal and distant dripping sounds that echoed through the vast space.

  I chose a direction and began walking, my footsteps creating minute vibrations in the catwalk that set my nerves on edge. If anything was below in the darkness, these vibrations would telegraph my position clearly. I moved as lightly as possible, testing each section before committing my weight to it.

  The catwalk led to a circular platform with five different paths branching from it, like spokes from a hub. Each spoke-path led to what appeared to be different environments—one reconnected to the yellow corridors, another to what looked like a flooded area, a third to something too dark to identify even with my enhanced vision and flashlight.

  I paused at this junction, considering my options. The logical choice would be to continue exploring, finding resources and mapping this impossible space. But something else tugged at my consciousness—a sense that mere exploration wasn't the point of this Zone. Kennedy had said it was designed for "containment and assessment." What was being assessed?

  As I stood contemplating, a sound reached me from the path leading back toward the chamber of fragments—footsteps, deliberate and unhurried, approaching my position. I moved quickly to the edge of the platform, crouching to minimize my visibility.

  Kennedy appeared, walking casually along the catwalk as if out for a pleasant stroll. His immaculate coat was gone now, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal thick forearms covered in intricate tattoos that seemed to shift slightly in the dim light. He paused at the center of the junction platform, exactly where I had stood moments before.

  "Sentinel," he called, his voice echoing through the vast industrial space. "This grows tiresome. The Zone has a purpose, and your continued evasion merely prolongs our containment."

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I remained motionless, barely breathing despite the considerable distance between us.

  "I know you can hear me," Kennedy continued. "Your enhanced senses ensure that. So hear this—the Coagulate Zone was not designed at random. It manifests according to the collective fears and subconscious patterns of those contained within it." He turned slowly, his gaze sweeping the branching pathways. "This particular manifestation is quite telling about your psyche, Sentinel."

  I frowned at his words. My psyche? I had never encountered or even heard of this "Backrooms" concept before entering the Zone. How could it reflect my subconscious?

  "Endless corridors where all paths look identical," Kennedy elaborated, as if hearing my unspoken question. "A perfect metaphor for your existence—created to follow predetermined routes, to make the choices programmed into you. A life of perpetual sameness, of walls and corridors and doors that all lead nowhere."

  His words struck something deep within me, a recognition I didn't want to acknowledge. I pushed the feeling aside, focusing on practical concerns—Kennedy was between me and the exit back to the chamber of fragments. I would need to choose a different path.

  "And now the corridors are revealing their secrets," Kennedy continued, pacing the platform with his hands clasped behind his back. "Just as your true nature emerges from beneath Anunnaki programming. But what will you find when all walls are stripped away, Sentinel? What lies at your core?"

  I'd heard enough. I slipped away from the edge, moving silently toward the path that led to the darkened area, using Kennedy's monologue as cover for any sounds I couldn't avoid making. The new path descended sharply, the catwalk spiraling downward into increasing darkness that soon swallowed even the distant figure of Kennedy.

  I activated the small flashlight, its weak beam providing just barely enough illumination to navigate safely. The spiral continued downward for what felt like hundreds of feet, eventually opening into a new space entirely—a massive chamber filled with what appeared to be shipping containers, stacked haphazardly like children's blocks abandoned mid-play.

  I moved through this container maze, using the height of the stacks to shield my flashlight's beam from being visible from above. The containers created corridors of their own—metal rather than yellow wallpaper, but equally confusing in their layout. I marked my path using the knife I carried, scratching small symbols into the metal to avoid getting lost.

  Within this container maze, I found more useful items—a backpack abandoned against one wall, similar to the backpack I abandoned with Tris and Eli, containing a water bottle (empty) and a lighter that still sparked when flicked. I added these to my growing collection of resources, along with the flashlight.

  As I rounded a corner between two towering container stacks, I came face to face with the pale entity.

  It stood motionless, not ten feet away, its elongated limbs hanging at impossible angles. From this close distance, I could see what I'd missed before—its face, or rather, its lack of one. Where features should have been, there was only smooth, white surface, interrupted by a single jagged line that bisected the oval head.

  The line twitched, then widened, splitting to reveal a crescent-shaped opening filled with darkness. The similarity to Veldt's manifestation was startling—the same simple, childlike representation of a smile, but on this entity, it radiated malevolence rather than protection.

  I reacted instantly, dropping into a combat stance and preparing to either fight or flee depending on the creature's response. It remained still for one heartbeat, two, three—then the crescent mouth widened impossibly, stretching until it nearly bisected the entire head. A sound emerged—not words, but a high-pitched keening that set my teeth on edge and sent pain lancing through my skull despite my enhanced resilience.

  I chose flight, spinning and sprinting back the way I'd come. The entity followed, its movements no longer fluid but jerky and impossibly fast, like footage played at double speed. I weaved through the container maze, using my memorized path to navigate while trying to lose my pursuer.

  A glance back showed the entity gaining—its elongated limbs covering ground with unsettling efficiency. I pushed harder, drawing on every enhancement the Nephilim activation had given me, but the creature matched my pace effortlessly.

  I needed an advantage. As I rounded a corner, I grabbed the edge of a precariously balanced container and heaved with all my strength. The massive metal box teetered, then crashed down across the path behind me. The impact resonated through the chamber, the sound amplified by the metal surroundings.

  I paused just long enough to see if my improvised barrier had worked—it hadn't. The entity flowed over the container like liquid, reforming on the other side without slowing. Its movements defied physics, defied logic.

  With no other option, I ran. Through the container maze, back to the spiral catwalk, up hundreds of feet toward the junction where I'd seen Kennedy. He was gone now, but I didn't slow down, choosing the path that led to the flooded area I'd glimpsed earlier.

  The catwalk descended gradually, eventually reaching a point where metal met water—dark, still water that stretched into darkness beyond my flashlight's reach. The path continued, submerged but visible just beneath the surface.

  I hesitated only briefly before plunging in. The water was cold, with the same metallic smell as from the office sink. I waded forward, the level rising to my waist, then my chest as the submerged catwalk descended further.

  Behind me, the entity reached the water's edge and stopped. It paced back and forth at the boundary, its movements agitated, the crescent smile widening and contracting rhythmically. It seemed unwilling or unable to enter the water.

  I continued forward until the water reached my chin, then paused, watching the creature's reaction. It made that high-pitched keening sound again but remained at the water's edge. I'd found its limitation.

  Relief was short-lived as I became aware of movement in the water around me—subtle currents against my legs that couldn't be explained by my own motion. Something was in here with me.

  I pushed forward quickly, following the submerged catwalk until it began to rise again, the water level gradually dropping to my shoulders, then chest, then waist. As I reached shallower water, I directed my flashlight back the way I'd come, trying to identify what I'd felt.

  The beam reflected off multiple ripples moving toward me—something just beneath the surface, creating V-shaped wakes as it approached. I increased my pace, pushing through the water with as much speed as I could manage.

  The catwalk rose completely above water again, leading to yet another new environment—what appeared to be a large, open shopping mall, complete with storefronts and benches. Like everything in this Zone, it was abandoned, frozen in time. Sale signs hung in windows, mannequins posed in mid-gesture, a food court with tables still set with plastic trays of petrified meals.

  I dripped across the polished floor, my clothes soaked and heavy, moving quickly to put distance between myself and whatever had been in the water. The mall stretched in both directions, curving gently out of sight. I chose a direction randomly and began jogging, passing empty storefronts with familiar brand names rendered slightly wrong—subtle misspellings or altered logos that heightened the sense of wrongness permeating the Zone.

  I don't know how long I wandered through the mall—time continued to feel elastic; I had no frame of reference. I found a sporting goods store and changed into dry clothes, selecting items that would allow freedom of movement. I also restocked my resources—a better flashlight, a multi-tool, energy bars that I hoped wouldn't be too stale to provide some nutrition.

  As I was leaving the store, the fluorescent lights overhead flickered and died, plunging the mall into darkness. I activated my new flashlight, its beam stronger than the previous one, casting sharp shadows across the open space.

  In that moment of darkness, something fundamental had changed. I felt it immediately—a shift in the environment's energy, a new tension in the air. I swept the flashlight beam around, searching for the source of my unease.

  The beam caught movement at the far end—Kennedy, walking casually toward me. But something about his movement was wrong—too fluid, too continuous, like he was gliding rather than walking.

  I directed the light directly at his face and felt my blood go cold. Where Kennedy's features should have been was that same smooth, white surface I'd seen on the entity, bisected by a crescent smile that widened as the light hit it.

  Not Kennedy—or not anymore. Whatever this thing was, it had either taken his form or he had somehow merged with the entities that inhabited this Zone. I backed away, keeping the light trained on the approaching figure.

  "Sentineeeeeel," it called, Kennedy's cultured voice distorted, stretched like taffy. "Why continue running? The Zone wants something from you. Something you're not giving."

  I turned and ran, unwilling to engage with whatever abomination Kennedy had become. The mall curved endlessly, offering no exits that I could see. I passed the same storefronts multiple times, the layout shifting when I wasn't looking directly at it, rearranging itself to prevent escape.

  Eventually, I found a maintenance door partially hidden behind a decorative planter. I forced it open and slipped through, finding myself in a service corridor that ran behind the storefronts. Pipes and electrical conduits lined the ceiling, and occasional doors presumably led back into the stores.

  I followed this backstage area until it ended at a junction with three possible paths—a stairwell leading up, a continuation of the service corridor, and what appeared to be an air duct large enough for a person to crawl through. The sound of something moving in the service corridor behind me made the decision easy—I chose the air duct, pulling myself up and crawling forward on hands and knees.

  The duct was cold metal against my palms, the space tight but navigable. I crawled forward methodically, using my elbows to minimize noise, the flashlight held awkwardly in one hand to illuminate the way forward.

  The duct branched multiple times, forming its own maze within the larger labyrinth of the Zone. I chose paths that seemed to lead away from the mall area, hoping to find a completely new environment, perhaps one with a way to escape the Zone entirely.

  After what felt like hours of cramped crawling, I reached a vent large enough to exit through. I kicked it open and dropped into yet another new space—what appeared to be a hotel corridor, with numbered doors lining both walls. The carpet here was red rather than the dingy yellow of the initial corridors, but the same fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.

  I tried several door handles—all locked except one, room number 237, which opened into a standard hotel room with twin beds, a bathroom, and a window that showed only blackness beyond the glass. I checked the bathroom first, relieved to find running water in the sink and shower. I drank deeply and filled my water bottle, then washed my face, examining my reflection in the mirror for the first time since entering the Zone.

  I looked different. My hair had grown significantly, now reaching the middle of my back despite being cropped to slightly above my shoulders when I'd entered the Zone. My face was gaunt, cheekbones prominent, eyes sunken. Most startling was the complete transformation of my right eye—the black sclera was gone, replaced by normal human white, matching my left eye perfectly. I looked… fully human. A ragged, malnourished one, but a human nonetheless.

  I stared at my reflection, trying to process this change. My Nephilim activation had been characterized by the black sclera—it was the visual representation of the genetic modifications. If it was gone, what did that mean? Had the Zone somehow reversed the activation, or was this merely another illusion in a place built from them?

  I had no time to contemplate the question further. A sound from the hotel corridor drew my attention—that now-familiar shuffling, coming closer to my room. I backed away from the door, considering my options. The bathroom window was too small to escape through, and the main window showed only starry void beyond. I was effectively trapped.

  The shuffling stopped directly outside my door. I held my breath, watching as the handle turned slowly. The door began to open, revealing a sliver of the corridor beyond.

  Before the entity could enter, I acted—lunging forward, I slammed my entire body weight against the door, crushing whatever appendage was manipulating the handle. A high-pitched keening sound confirmed I'd caused it pain, but the pressure against the door increased rather than retreated.

  I braced my feet against the carpet, using my enhanced strength to hold the door closed, but the entity was surprisingly strong. Slowly, inexorably, the door widened despite my best efforts. A long, pale arm snaked through the gap, fingers elongated and jointed backwards, reaching toward me.

  I abandoned the door, darting back toward the bathroom. The entity surged into the room behind me—not one but three of the pale creatures, moving with that same unsettling not-quite-fluid motion. I slammed the bathroom door, locking it for whatever minimal protection that might provide.

  The creatures reached the door instantly, their keening now a chorus that penetrated the wood and dissonated painfully in my skull. The door shuddered under impacts from multiple limbs, the lock mechanism creaking ominously.

  I searched desperately for a weapon, finding nothing but small toiletries and towels. The window was still too small for escape, and the creatures were seconds from breaking through the door.

  With no better option, I climbed into the bathtub and pulled the shower curtain closed, as if this flimsy barrier might somehow hide me. It was a futile gesture, born of desperation rather than logic.

  The bathroom door splintered, then gave way entirely. Through the semi-opaque shower curtain, I could see the distorted shapes of the creatures filling the small bathroom space, their elongated limbs moving in unnatural synchronization as they approached the bathtub.

  I braced myself for the attack, determined to fight until the end despite the hopelessness of my situation. If this was how my brief existence as an autonomous being would end, I would face it with whatever dignity I could muster.

  A pale hand gripped the edge of the shower curtain, drawing it slowly aside. I tensed, ready to strike—

  And then the floor beneath me dissolved. The bathtub, the bathroom, the creatures—all vanished as I fell through suddenly empty space, plummeting into absolute darkness. Wind rushed past my ears, replacing the creatures' keening with the sound of my own descent.

  I reached out desperately, trying to grab something, anything to arrest my fall, but my hands found only empty air. There was no sense of walls or boundaries in this darkness—just the continuing sensation of falling, falling, falling.

  The darkness was absolute, swallowing even my enhanced vision. I had no way to judge distance, no way to prepare for an impact that seemed inevitable. I tucked my body into a protective position, minimizing potential damage as best I could.

  As I fell through the void, my thoughts returned to Tris—his desperate face as the Zone had closed between us, his bloody fingers reaching for me. Eli's tears as she tried to pull him to safety. Veldt's protective expansion beneath him.

  I had made my choice then, and I would make the same choice again. Whatever awaited me at the bottom of this darkness—whether death, continued imprisonment, or some new trial—I would face it with the knowledge that my first truly autonomous act had been to protect them. Not because of programming or obligation, but because I had decided their lives mattered to me.

  That, I realized as I continued falling through the endless void, was what it meant to be truly alive—not just to exist, but to choose your own values, your own priorities. The Anunnaki had created me as a tool, Ereshkigal had modified me as a weapon, but in that alley in Smiths Falls, I had defined myself.

  The darkness around me seemed to deepen, if that were possible. The sensation of falling remained, but now there was something else—a subtle change in the quality of the void, a feeling that I was passing from one state of existence to another. I was alone in the darkness, uncertain of my destination but somehow, strangely, at peace with whatever awaited me there.

  Until I wasn't.

  The air around me began to change, growing thinner with each passing second. My enhanced lungs struggled to extract sufficient oxygen from the atmosphere as it seemed to be actively sucked away from me. The void was no longer just dark—it was suffocating.

  I gasped, trying to draw breath that wasn't there. My enhanced physiology fought against the oxygen deprivation, but even Nephilim genetics had limits. Black spots danced across my vision—darkness within darkness. My thoughts scattered, fragmented. Tris's face. Eli's tears. Veldt's protection. The image of the three of them together was the last thing in my mind as consciousness finally slipped away.

  And then, with no sense of transition, I awoke.

  My eyes snapped open to near-total darkness. I was lying on my back on a cold, hard surface. Not falling anymore—completely still. I blinked, my enhanced vision gradually adjusting to reveal my surroundings.

  I was in a small cube-shaped room. The walls, floor, and ceiling appeared to be made of polished black obsidian, reflecting what little light existed in faint, distorted gleams. The only feature breaking the perfect symmetry of the space were three narrow, horizontal slits in one wall—barely wide enough to see through, positioned at my eye level.

  I tried to move and realized with a shock that I was completely naked, my clothes gone without explanation. My body felt wrong—lighter, weaker. I ran my hands over my ribs, counting them through skin that seemed stretched too tightly over bone. I had lost significant weight, my once-toned muscles now diminished.

  My fingers touched hair cascading down my back—hair that now reached my lower back despite being mid-back when I was in the bathroom before the fall. How long had I been here? Weeks? Months? My body suggested a duration much longer than I'd perceived. With this level of hair growth, and physical malnutrition, how was I still alive? Am I still alive?

  Tris…

  I struggled to my feet, swaying slightly from weakness, and limped towards the slits in the wall. The room was so small I needed only three steps to cross it. I peered through the narrow openings, but saw only darkness beyond—a corridor, perhaps, though I couldn't be certain with the minimal light.

  The cell—for that was clearly what it was—contained nothing else. No bed, no toilet, no sink. Just black walls, a black floor, a black ceiling, and me. Cold, empty, alone.

  I pressed my face closer to the slits, straining to see anything in the darkness beyond. My enhanced hearing detected nothing at first, then caught a faint sound in the distance—regular, rhythmic. Tapping.

  It grew gradually louder. Footsteps. The sharp click of heels on a hard surface, approaching with measured, unhurried purpose.

  I held my breath, watching the darkness beyond the slits. The footsteps stopped directly outside my cell. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a face appeared at the openings, so suddenly that I stumbled backward in surprise.

  My blood turned to ice.

  The being looking through the slits had a humanoid face of perfect, mathematical symmetry—beautiful in the way a venomous snake is beautiful. Its skin was a pale, iridescent green with subtle scaling that caught what little light penetrated the darkness. Most disturbing were the eyes—vertically-pupiled and amber-gold, set in sclera of absolute black.

  "Sarah Dylan," the being said, its voice melodic and feminine despite its alien appearance. "Welcome back to consciousness. You've been missed."

  I tried to respond but found my throat too dry, producing only a raspy croak. The reptilian face displayed no emotion, but I sensed amusement emanating from it nonetheless.

  "Don't strain yourself, dear creation. You'll have plenty of time to speak when I decide to hear from you."

  I knew this being without being told—Ereshkigal, Overseer of Soul Processing. Architect of my Nephilim activation. The being who had attempted to reclaim my consciousness through the implants.

  I took another step backward, unable to hide my fear. This reaction seemed to please her, the scaled skin around her eyes crinkling slightly.

  "You recognize me. Good. That part of your memory remains intact." She studied me through the slits, those snake-like eyes moving systematically across my naked form. "The Zone has been... unkind to your physical vessel. But that's easily repaired. What matters is that your mind remained largely whole."

  I found my voice at last, though it emerged as little more than a whisper. "How... long?"

  Ereshkigal's scaled lips curved upward. "Time is such a limited, trivial concept. Relevant to physical beings, I suppose, but hardly worth tracking for those like me." She paused, seemingly considering. "By Earth measurements, perhaps…" She paused again. “Aaah, but you would love it if I told you, wouldn’t you?” What could be taken as a smile slithered across her face, though I could barely see it.

  No, Tris…

  The lack of information hit me like a physical blow. An untold amount of my existence, gone in what had felt like days. What had happened to Tris and the others in that time? Had they escaped? Been captured? Were they even still alive?

  As if reading my thoughts, Ereshkigal's smile widened, revealing teeth too sharp, too numerous for a human mouth.

  "You're wondering about the Solar Sovereign," she said. "Your precious Tris and his protectors. How touching that your first coherent thought is for them rather than yourself." Her vertical pupils dilated slightly. "Rest assured, Sarah Dylan. You'll learn their fate soon enough. After all, you're going to play a very special role in what comes next."

  The finality in her tone sent cold dread spreading through my body. Before I could respond, Ereshkigal moved away from the slits, her face replaced by darkness once more.

  "Rest now," her voice drifted back as the sound of her footsteps receded. "Soon, we begin your... reorientation."

  Alone again in my obsidian prison, I sank to the floor, my back against the cold wall. The implications of my situation crashed over me in waves. I wasn't in the Coagulate Zone anymore. I was in Ereshkigal's direct custody, far from any possible assistance.

  And whatever she had planned for me, I knew with absolute certainty it would make the horrors of the Backrooms seem like a pleasant dream by comparison.