FLASH BACK

Liora sat on the edge of the examination table, legs swinging idly, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The room was cold, but she had grown used to it. She folded her hands in her lap, waiting like she always did.

The scientists bustled around her, murmuring in clipped voices, discussing numbers and progress reports she didn't quite understand. She had been here for as long as she could remember, following every instruction given to her.

This was her routine. And routines were safe.

Dr. Lucian, the project lead, stood before her, flipping through his notes with the same detached efficiency as always. His voice was smooth, impersonal. "Subject Blue Rose, state your current condition."

"My name is Liora." Her voice was soft but firm. She had said it many times, but it never mattered.

Dr. Lucian didn't even look up. "Subject Blue Rose."

Liora swallowed, lowering her gaze. "I feel fine."

"Any discomfort? Neural dissonance? Unusual impulses?"

She hesitated, thinking of the flickers of data she sometimes saw in the edges of her vision, the way machines seemed to respond to her before she even touched them.

But admitting to abnormalities only led to more tests, more wires, more cold hands adjusting the electrodes on her skin.

"No."

Dr. Lucian nodded, satisfied. "Good. Proceed with the next calibration."

Wires were attached to her temples, cold metal disks pressing against her skin. Liora didn't flinch. She was used to this part.

A soft chime sounded as the machine powered up, and she felt the familiar sensation—a tingling at the base of her skull, a warmth spreading through her limbs. She kept her breathing steady, just like they taught her.

"Neural synchronization is stable," one of the assistants reported.

"Increase the interface rate," Dr. Lucian ordered.

A sharp jolt lanced through her mind. Liora gasped, her fingers digging into the armrests. Something was different this time. It hurt.

She winced, looking up at them. "It's—hurting."

Dr. Lucian barely looked at her. "Maintain synchronization. We're pushing the limits today."

She wasn't sure when the experiments had shifted from simple tests to something deeper, more invasive. She remembered when they used to just scan her, ask her questions. Now, it was integration. Merging. Becoming something else.

Someone whispered near her ear. Not a scientist. A voice within the system.

You don't belong here.

She gasped softly. The words weren't spoken. They came from the interface itself, a ripple through the artificial link connecting her to XENIS-IS.

She jerked, eyes darting to the observation window. The scientists didn't react. They hadn't heard it.

But someone was there. A shadow at the far end of the lab, half-hidden in the dim reflection of the glass.

A boy, restrained in another testing chair. His eyes sharp, filled with something foreign from everyone else, locked onto hers.

And then, just as quickly, he was gone.

Liora's heart pounded. Was he real? Or another glitch in her mind?

Before she could process it, the test concluded. The wires detached. Dr. Lucian marked his notes without so much as a glance at her. "The subject is progressing as expected. Maintain current regimen."

As expected. Always as expected.

The other subjects weren't like her. They came and went—some stayed for weeks, others only for days. She never saw them again. But Liora remained. Always.

She had asked once, timidly, if she could leave. If she could see the outside world.

Her parents had only smiled. "This is where you belong, dear. This is for your future."

She hadn't understood at the time. But now, with every test, every experiment, the realization crept in. She was not here by choice. She was not free.

The escape was chaos.

Sirens blared. Lights flickered. Liora ran.

She didn't know how she got out. The doors had opened at the right time. The cameras had flickered at the right moment. The guards had turned the other way, just when she needed them to. It was almost impossible.

But in the corner of her vision, just before she slipped past the last checkpoint, she saw him again.

The boy. Renzo.

And then she was gone, into the night, into the unknown.

The officials stood in a dimly lit control room, watching lines of encrypted data scroll across the massive screens. Liora's face flickered briefly before being consumed by the purge sequence.

"The project is officially terminated."

"Are you sure this is necessary?" one of them asked, arms crossed. "She could still be an asset."

A higher-ranking officer shook his head. "She's a liability. If she survived, she doesn't remember. The data wipe is absolute. We cannot risk XENIS-IS being traced back to us."

Lines of code cascaded down, flashing red before dissolving into nothing.

"She no longer exists."