Lab Quest

Alex didn't stop moving until he and Adam were back in the main hallway of Whitmoor College. His breath came in short gasps, and his skin crawled with unease. Every shadow seemed to slither. Every noise echoed louder than it should. The air inside the school was heavier now, like the building itself was holding its breath.

"Alex—" Adam began, trying to keep up.

"No," Alex snapped. "We shouldn't have gone there. We shouldn't have spoken to him."

Adam grabbed his shoulder. "You said he was lying. So why are you acting like he told the truth?"

Alex hesitated. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. His fingers twitched. He could still hear Sabastin's voice: You cannot outrun your blood.

Was it the truth?

Am I really connected to him… to that place… to whatever's inside me now?

They exited the building through the back, slipping past the iron gates and into the night. The moon was still high—watchful and cold.

"I'm not going back," Alex said finally. "I'll figure this out on my own. That man is dangerous."

Adam sighed. "Yeah, well… so are you now."

Back at home, Alex barely spoke to his mum. He ate mechanically, nodded when she talked, and made up a story about being tired from studying.

But that night—he didn't sleep.

He couldn't.

As soon as his eyes closed, visions slammed into his mind like waves in a storm.

He stood in a vast cathedral made of bone and black stone. Blood-red banners hung from the ceiling, and at the center, a throne of iron and fire. Before it, men and women kneeled—some in armor, some in chains. All of them whispered the same name:

Alexander the Blood Monarch.

He saw himself sitting on that throne, face pale, eyes burning. His mouth opened, revealing long, gleaming fangs. Soldiers stood behind him—monsters in royal garb, followers of something ancient. Something wicked.

Then everything burned.

He jolted awake, drenched in sweat, breath ragged, heart pounding like a war drum.

His body felt strange—stronger. He rushed to the mirror again. His skin was paler, like porcelain. His pupils were narrow, like a predator's. He tried to calm himself, but his thoughts raced.

What if Sabastin was telling the truth?

The next day at school, Alex kept to himself. He sat in class with his hoodie up, eyes hidden. But he couldn't help hearing the whispers.

Some students were talking about him.

"I heard someone saw Alex near the lab last night…"

"There was light coming from Sabastin's office…"

"They say Mr. Sabastin wasn't at home last night. Weird, right?"

Alex clenched his fists. His ears were sharper than normal. He could hear the tick of the classroom clock, the soft breaths of the students, even the faint flutter of someone's heartbeat.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to run.

Instead, he got through the day, then met Adam behind the sports hall.

"You look like death," Adam muttered, passing him a bottle of water.

"I think I'm changing more each day," Alex said quietly. "It's not just physical anymore. I feel things I shouldn't. I want things I shouldn't."

Adam frowned. "Like what?"

Alex looked away. "Blood."

Adam stepped back.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Alex said quickly. "Not yet. But I don't know how long I can hold it in. I need answers. Real ones."

Adam looked around, then leaned in. "I've been doing some research. On Sabastin. And your last name."

Alex's eyes narrowed. "What did you find?"

"Come to my place tonight," Adam said. "It's… a lot."

That evening, Alex stood in Adam's room while Adam pulled up his laptop. On the screen were old newspaper clippings, articles, archived school records—some of them decades old.

"Look at this," Adam said, clicking open an article titled:

"Local Scientist Linked to Missing Persons Case in Whitmoor – 1987"

Sabastin's face was younger, but unmistakable.

"This guy's been teaching for over thirty years. But guess what? There's no record of his birth. No medical history. No family."

Alex read the article, then scanned the others. One stood out.

"Young Boy Named Alexander Missing from Lab Fire – Body Never Found."

"Wait… this was twenty years ago," Alex said. "I was born after this."

Adam nodded slowly. "I think you weren't born, Alex. I think you were made."

Alex stared at the screen. His heart pounded. The puzzle pieces were clicking into place—terrifying, bloody pieces.

"Sabastin… he didn't just experiment on people," Adam said. "He created them. He's been trying to build something. A successor. A monarch."

Alex stumbled back, grabbing the edge of the desk. "You think I'm… not human?"

"I think you're part human. But also part something else."

Silence fell between them.

Then Adam said, "There's more. Tonight, Whitmoor holds its Founder's Ceremony. Sabastin's giving a speech. We could get inside the old archives while everyone's distracted. There's more information down there—maybe even proof."

Alex's jaw tightened. "Let's do it."

That night, the school was lit up. Parents, students, and old alumni gathered in the auditorium. Sabastin stood at the podium, his voice echoing through the speaker system.

Alex and Adam, meanwhile, slipped away down into the lower wings of the school—the parts sealed off for 'renovation.' The floor creaked. The lights flickered. And the deeper they went, the colder it became.

Finally, they found it—a thick door marked "RESTRICTED – HEAD RESEARCH."

It opened with a screech.

Inside was a lab… no, a temple.

The walls were lined with coffins made of glass. Inside each one, a person—pale, unmoving, but not quite dead. Tubes ran from their veins into machines. Symbols glowed softly on the ground.

And at the center, a large glass chamber. Inside it floated a body.

Alex froze.

The body looked exactly like him.

"Adam…" he whispered. "What the hell is this?"

Before Adam could speak, a voice echoed behind them once more.

"Your past, Alexander. Your brothers. Your failures."

They turned.

Sabastin was there again—but this time, his fangs were bared, his form warped, eyes burning.

"You are the only success. The Blood Monarch reborn. And now... it is time for you to take your place."