BLACK SWAN

Myst sat on the couch, fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeve, eyes fixed on the floor. The silence had stretched too long since she told them the truth. Usually, the Clan would busy themselves with data, avoiding the weight of things too heavy to process.

But this time, they wanted her to say it. To lay it out instead of letting them piece it together.

She had expected hesitation. Maybe even fear. Instead—

"They experimented on you?" Echo was the first to break the quiet, his usual sharp-edged tone stripped of sarcasm. "For how long?"

Myst exhaled slowly. "For as long as I can remember."

Blaze let out a low curse, dragging a hand down his face. "And your parents—?"

"Gave me to them."

That shut everyone up again.

Nyx crossed his arms, jaw tight. "So they just decided you weren't a person anymore? Just some… project?"

"They never really saw me as anything else," Myst admitted, swallowing the lump rising in her throat.

Razor leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his gaze sharp but unreadable. "They erased your memory because they thought you were a loose end." His fingers tapped against his knee, restless. "And if you hadn't figured it out, they would've just kept moving like nothing happened."

Myst nodded.

Flux hadn't spoken yet. He stood near the wall, arms crossed, but his gaze never left her.

"They had no right." Shade's voice was quiet but firm, laced with steel. "Not to you. Not to anyone."

Cipher exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I knew the Government had its dirty secrets, but this?" His fists clenched. "They didn't just use you. They built you."

Myst swallowed. She wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"So what?" Echo leaned back, throwing his hands up. "She's just supposed to sit with that? Just carry it?" Frustration bled into his voice. "There's no fixing that kind of damage."

"I don't need fixing," Myst said quietly.

Echo hesitated, then muttered, "That's... not what I meant." He reached out, fingers curling lightly around her arm before dropping away.

Myst looked at each of them in turn. There was no fear in their eyes. No distrust. Only anger—that wasn't aimed at her.

"We're with you," Flux finally spoke, voice low but certain. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips when their eyes met. "You know that, right?"

She blinked, biting her lip. She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear that until now.

"Yeah." Her voice was steadier this time. "I know."

Myst stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against her skin. She exhaled slowly, pressing her palms against the railing of the balcony, staring at the darkened skyline beyond.

The conversation with the Clan still sat heavy in her chest. Their anger had been for her, not against her. She should have felt relieved. She should have felt safe.

But the weight didn't go away.

"You always run off when you're thinking too much."

Myst stiffened. She hadn't even heard Flux approach, but there he was, leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed like he had all the time in the world.

She huffed, turning back to the view. "And you always show up when I do."

"Guess I like making sure you don't disappear on us." He stepped closer, his presence warm even in the cold.

"You okay?"

The question was simple, but the way he asked it made her throat tighten.

"I don't know," she admitted.

Flux didn't press. He never did. Instead, he leaned beside her, close enough that she could feel the shift of his breath.

"You didn't run," he noted after a pause.

Myst frowned. "What?"

"After telling them," he clarified. "I thought you might."

She clenched her fingers against the railing. "You think I wanted to?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. "I think it scared you."

Myst let out a sharp breath. "It still does."

Flux was quiet for a moment before saying, "They didn't doubt you."

The words caught her off guard. She turned slightly, and when their eyes met, something flickered in his.

"They didn't even hesitate," he continued. "No fear, no second-guessing. They were pissed, yeah, but not at you."

Myst swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how to handle that."

Flux tilted his head, considering her. "Why?"

"Because it's not what I'm used to." She let out a dry, bitter laugh. "People either use me, control me, or erase me when I stop being convenient. That's all I've ever been to someone—a tool or a problem."

Flux's expression darkened. "That's all they made you believe you were."

Myst turned away again, gripping the railing like it could keep her steady. "I don't know how to be anything else."

Flux exhaled sharply. Then before she could react, he reached out, curling his fingers around her wrist. Not harsh. Not forceful. Just enough to make her look at him.

His grip was warm, steady, grounding. "Then let me remind you," he murmured.

The air between them tightened, heavy with something neither of them spoke aloud.

Myst's pulse thrummed in her ears. "Flux—"

"You're not them," he interrupted, voice rougher than before. His grip loosened, his thumb brushing absently over the inside of her wrist, but he didn't pull away. "You're not what they made you. You never were."

She wasn't sure when the space between them had disappeared, but suddenly, she was too aware of how close he was. Of how his gaze flickered to her lips for the briefest second before he met her eyes again.

She could step away. She should step away.

But she didn't.

Instead, she whispered, "You always act like you know me better than I know myself."

Flux smirked barely, just a ghost of it. "Maybe I do."

Then, after a lingering second, Flux finally leaned back, giving her space. "Come back inside when you're ready," he murmured, voice softer now.

Myst stayed frozen as he walked away, his warmth lingering even as the cold night air pressed in.