Night had settled like a bruise across the sky, smothering the horizon in shades of purple and black. The flickering lights of the Sector Prime research facility buzzed faintly above the gathering of four individuals who, though strangers in many ways, had just been bound together by purpose—and soon, by power.

  Aiko sat at the edge of the meeting room’s long metal table, elbow resting on the cold surface as he stared at the datapad in front of him. Coordinates, files, profiles—Dr. Haraway had given him everything they knew about the so-called Bonders: survivors whose contact with Anomalies hadn’t killed them, but changed them. People who could potentially link with the Pact-Device and weaponize its energy.

  He tapped the screen idly, his thoughts spinning.

  Across from him, Aria leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, expression carved from stone. She wasn’t saying much, but Aiko could feel the tension radiating off her like heat from a fire. Lumen was seated nearby, fiddling with a stripped-down Pact-Device core, muttering equations to himself while making slight adjustments with a micro-welder. And Kai… Kai simply stood in the shadows, as he always did, quiet and unreadable.

  The room was silent save for the occasional sputter of Lumen’s tool and the distant hum of power generators. The briefing had concluded hours ago, but no one had left.

  There was something still hanging in the air. Unspoken.

  “You all feel it too,” Aiko said, breaking the silence. “The unease.”

  Aria looked up. “Of course I do. We’re about to use something that nobody fully understands. Something that could kill us… or worse, corrupt us.”

  Lumen paused his tinkering, tapping the tool against the table. “Technically speaking, the Pact-Device is still in experimental phases. We’ve run simulations, tested energy modulation. But human bonding? Only one successful case. And a few... not-so-successful ones.”

  He didn’t elaborate on what “not-so-successful” meant, but Aiko remembered the reports. The first trials had resulted in seizures, madness—one subject had burst into blue flame from the inside out. They were never found whole.

  Kai stepped forward then, his voice calm and sharp. “Morality is a luxury we no longer afford. The world is dying. If this device can turn the tide, we use it.”

  Aiko looked at him. “At what cost?”

  Kai met his eyes without flinching. “Better a world ruled by survivors than one swallowed whole by chaos.”

  That sentence hung in the air like a threat.

  Dr. Haraway entered the room at that moment, carrying a tablet and a steaming mug. She looked exhausted—dark circles under her eyes, jaw clenched from hours of stress—but her eyes still held their familiar, calculating gleam.

  “I take it the debate has begun?” she asked dryly.

  “You call it a debate. I call it a gamble,” Aria said.

  Haraway didn’t argue. She placed her tablet on the table and tapped the screen, pulling up a holographic display. It showed a diagram of the Pact-Device’s inner mechanisms—pulsing energy nodes, memory cores, psychic modulation filters. All beautiful, all terrifying.

  “I won’t lie to you,” Haraway said. “The technology isn’t perfected. The bond between a subject and the device is as much emotional as it is biological. We’re working with powers beyond our understanding. But the Anomalies… they’re evolving. We don’t have time to be cautious.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “And if bonding to one turns us into them?” Aria asked.

  Haraway gave a small, joyless laugh. “Then I hope we die quickly.”

  The silence that followed was suffocating.

  Lumen broke it by slapping the side of the device. “There’s one thing we haven’t accounted for yet: consent. If we find Bonders, they have to agree to this. Voluntarily.”

  Kai scoffed. “If they’re smart, they’ll understand the stakes.”

  Aiko’s voice was quiet, but firm. “If they’re scared, we don’t force them. We can’t become the thing we’re trying to stop.”

  Haraway nodded. “We’re not in the business of coercion. At least… not yet.”

  That unsettled Aiko more than anything.

  Later that night, Aiko found himself walking through the empty training wing of the facility. He moved in silence, the echo of his boots reverberating off the concrete walls. The silence let his doubts seep in.

  He reached the simulated combat chamber and stared at the terminal.

  Insert subject. Begin test sequence.

  He hesitated only a second before activating it. The room around him transformed—an illusion built from light and hardlight panels. He stood now in a ruined street, flames licking at cracked pavement, the sound of distant growls echoing across the air.

  An Anomaly stalked into view—eight feet tall, skin like obsidian glass, veined with glowing blue cracks. It wasn’t real, but it felt it. Every instinct in his body screamed to run.

  But this was his trial. His test.

  He drew the practice version of a Pact-Device—harmless, just enough to sync with the illusion—and pressed it to his chest.

  Pain shot through him. Not physical pain, but something worse: memory.

  He saw his squad. Kira, bleeding out. Devon screaming as the creature tore through his armor. Their eyes. The sound of his own voice begging for orders. Begging for someone to tell him what to do.

  You’re in command, Kira had whispered. Don’t let it happen again.

  And then nothing.

  The simulated Anomaly charged. Aiko barely moved in time, rolling behind debris as the creature crashed into the wall. Dust flew. The room shook. He rose and pointed the device.

  Command bond: Simulate sync.

  The fake power surged into him—and for a second, he understood. The Pact-Device wasn’t just technology. It was a bridge. A mirror. It brought the darkness in… but it also reflected the light inside.

  He fought with precision. Focus. He didn’t overpower the beast—he outmaneuvered it. And when it dropped, dissipating into sparks, he stood in the middle of the ruined street… shaking.

  Even fake Anomalies were terrifying. What would the real ones be like?

  The next morning brought new urgency.

  Reports came in from Sector Delta—confirmed Anomaly sightings. A town, once full of scattered survivors, had gone dark. No comms. No scouts returned.

  It was the location of their first target: Mira.

  Dr. Haraway briefed them as they prepared to leave. “She’s thirteen. Lived with a group of protectors. She’s the only known survivor of a Category Four Anomaly breach. That kind of exposure without mutation? Unheard of.”

  “What’s she like?” Aria asked, tightening her gear.

  “Smart. Quiet. Scared,” Haraway replied. “You’ll have to gain her trust. And fast.”

  The team prepped in silence. The dropship wasn’t luxurious—just a metal coffin with thrusters—but it would get them there fast.

  Aiko sat across from Aria, who was checking her blades. Kai meditated with eyes closed. Lumen flipped through diagnostics on a holographic console.

  No one talked. They were already inside their own heads.

  As they flew over the ravaged landscape, Aiko looked out the narrow window. The world below looked like an old scar. Cities collapsed in on themselves, forests turned to ash, highways carved apart by monstrous claws. This was what they were trying to save.

  When the ship landed on the outskirts of the town, the first thing they noticed was the silence. No birds. No wind. Just… stillness.

  They moved in formation—Aria taking point, Kai watching the rear, Aiko and Lumen between.

  It didn’t take long to find the signs.

  Burned-out cars. Claw marks in walls. Bodies—drained, not bloodied. As if something had consumed not just flesh, but energy. Essence.

  Then they heard it.

  A whimper.

  They followed the sound into a half-collapsed building. Inside, beneath a makeshift shelter of blankets and metal, was a girl with tangled hair, dirty clothes, and eyes far too old for her face.

  “Mira,” Aiko said gently, kneeling. “We’re here to help.”

  She looked up, wild-eyed. “Are you real?”

  “We are,” Aria said, slowly lowering her weapon. “We know about you. We know what you survived.”

  Mira flinched. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t want it.”

  “We’re not here to blame you,” Aiko said softly. “We’re here to give you a choice.”

  Mira stared at the device in his hand. Her lip trembled.

  “I don’t want to be a monster.”

  “You’re not,” Aiko said. “You’re what gives us a chance to fight back.”

  There was a long pause. Then Mira nodded.

  “I’ll try.”