Jared was running.
The tunnels twisted, folding back on themselves. Concrete sweated moisture, slick beneath his boots. Each breath pulled in cold, heavy air, pressing against his chest. Boots struck the ground, a rhythm old as memory. Behind him, Adrian’s steps echoed, answering in the hollow dark. They moved quickly, but the panic never came. Only the steady pulse of purpose. This was a hunt. Deliberate. The intention wound tightly in every muscle.
Their comms snapped with static and clipped orders. Bring it in if possible. Neutralize if necessary. No civilian casualties. No hesitation.
Jared slipped ahead, instinct urging him. Tight spaces always called him forward. The Dark pressed in, not hostile, restless. It pressed against his ribs and expanded into his chest, seeking a way out. He let it seep across his skin. He trusted the Dark. He trusted the self that moved within it.
They rounded a corner.
The tunnel widened into a maintenance junction lit by a lone flickering strip. Standing in the center was a little girl. No more than ten. Pink ruffled dress. Sneakers scuffed and worn. Long midnight hair gathered into uneven pigtails. She hugged a fabric rabbit, its ear hanging by a single thread. Her eyes wide. Wet. Drowning in terror.
The Dark wound about her, thin tendrils writhing, curling close. Protective. Instinctive. It did not strike. It did not surge. It clung to her, smoke wrapped tight around a wavering light.
Jared stopped short.
His heart hammered. Something inside him split, raw and sudden, pain blooming beneath his skin.
She looked up at him and Adrian, fear flooding her face as comprehension settled in. She knew what they were. She knew why they were there.
“Please,” she whispered. The voice faintly carried.
Behind Jared, Adrian lifted his gun.
“Contain her,” Adrian ordered. His voice remained calm. Professional. Certain.
Jared’s mouth opened, and silence filled the air. He tried to move. His feet would not obey, rooted deep in the concrete. The Dark thickened, feeding on his hesitation, his horror.
“She’s just a child,” Jared managed, but the words dragged, slow and heavy, as if forced through water.
Adrian did not waver. “She’s a threat.”
The girl squeezed her rabbit tighter. The Dark surged, tendrils rising, grasping hands.
Jared reached out.
The tunnel dissolved.
He woke with a gasp. His breath came hard and uneven. He clutched the blankets. His heart raced and pressed hard against his ribs, a dull ache in his chest. The ceiling above him was vague and indistinct in the darkness. His body was hollow inside, scraped clean, a crucial part scooped out and left unfilled.
He lay there, staring, waiting for the feeling to recede.
It did not.
The room was wrong. Distant. Flat. The furniture hazy at the edges, more stage than substance. His hands. He saw them, but they did not belong to him. The connection was thin, as if someone else moved them, always a moment too late.
Adrian slept down the hall at the other end of the apartment. He could not go to him. The nightmare clung, a residue on his skin, thick and unshakable. If he spoke it, it would become real. He might make Adrian into the monster he had seen. The memory of their argument pressed in, a quiet doubt whispering that he was not welcome, not when he was this broken.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Stood. The floor was unreal beneath his feet, pressure without feeling, as if thick gloves separated him from the world. He moved into the living room. Erebus followed, silent shadow. Jared paced, back and forth, hands flexing, unclenching, searching for sensation.
Nothing left to focus on. The research was gone. The gadgets, the tangle of cables, and the scattered data pads were all gone. No papers to shuffle, no odd trinkets to fidget with. Nothing for his hands to find. The room was stripped bare, a shell. Hollow, like him.
Time seemed endless, thin and strange. He could not say how long he had paced. The glowing streetlamp painted the window in dull amber, unmoving, frozen.
He stopped at the chair, perched on the edge. Rocked forward. Back. Forward. Back. A low hum escaped from his lips, wavering, the tune that once soothed him. River’s Lament, Aelith’s song. His fingers tapped his thigh, then each other, searching for something familiar to steady him.
Nothing landed.
His own humming sounded distant, as if it belonged to someone else. His chest was empty, emotions dulled and unreachable. Panic hovered at the edges, not sharp but everywhere, seeping in like fog.
He stood again and paced toward the kitchen.
The light in the kitchen was harsh, too bright. It sharpened the unreality, made the edges cut, colors too vivid to bear. He opened a drawer. His hand settled on the knife without thought.
The metal was cold. Solid. Real.
He drew the blade across his arm. Shallow. Controlled. Pain flared, sharp and immediate, cleaving the fog. His breath hissed out. The world jolted into focus, just enough. He stood at the sink, watching blood bead and drip, red against silver. The sight anchored him. He sensed his heartbeat. His breath. Pain meant he was real.
Footsteps padded into the kitchen.
Adrian stood in the doorway, hair mussed, eyes still full of sleep. He took in the scene at a glance. He did not raise his voice. He did not rush.
“Jared,” he spoke quietly.
Jared did not look at him.
Adrian advanced gently, careful not to startle. He set a hand on the counter near Jared’s arm, close but not touching. He took the knife gently from Jared’s fingers and dropped it into the sink with a dull clatter.
Jared let him.
Adrian turned, pulled the medical kit from the cabinet. He worked with experienced hands, calm, focused. The nanobot injector sealed the wound. Pain faded, replaced by a delicate warmth, and the distance returned.
Adrian watched the skin knit back together. He exhaled softly when he was satisfied.
He took Jared’s hand.
Jared’s hand clenched around his, tight, desperate. He did not speak. He did not need to.
“Come on,” Adrian murmured. “Allow me help you feel something better than that.”
He led Jared down the hall into his bedroom. Jared followed without resistance, clinging to Adrian’s hand as if it were the only solid thing left in the world.
The door closed behind them, shutting out the quiet apartment and the traces of the nightmare.
Erebus watched them without comment, flicking their tail in the shadows of the window sill.
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