Chapter 10: A Mortal Girl.

Just above the place where Desmond and the Doctor sat—

SHIIK... WRUNG... THUD.

A metal door opened, releasing a thick stench of blood into the empty corridor.

Step.

The Warden emerged, wiping blood from his face and hands with a clean white cloth.

"Ugh..." he muttered, noticing a fresh cut on his arm beneath the mess.

"When did this happen?" Shepherd frowned, but quickly shook his head.

"It'll heal."

He waved lazily.

"Rerik."

From the shadows, the thin black figure stepped forward—its skeletal frame twitching slightly as it bowed.

"Take him."

Shepherd gestured at Yellow, who lay slumped on the white-tiled floor in a pool of his own blood, eyes half-closed, lips slack.

Rerik nodded silently.

The Warden resumed humming to himself.

"La... la... la... la..." His voice echoed down the corridor as he walked away.

Rerik stepped toward Yellow, bones creaking with every motion. Blood and saliva still dripped from Yellow's mouth as he was gently lifted from the floor.

Just as Rerik reached to wipe it away—

"...Ugh. Leave it," Yellow groaned, his voice dry with pain.

Rerik paused, hand lowering.

Then Yellow whispered:

"Reverse State."

At once, Rerik's hollow eyes widened.

Before his eyes, the broken skin sealed, the bruises faded, and blood-stained flesh returned to dirty—but intact—skin.

The wounds were gone.

Yellow had returned to the exact state he was in before entering the Warden's chamber.

Rerik stared, unmoving. A silent question lingered in his gaze.

"The fat pig overdid it," Yellow muttered. "I can't let the boy be scared for eternity by that."

Still, Rerik didn't move.

"I didn't bother reversing last time because I didn't think anyone was in the cell block," Yellow added. Then, tilting his head slightly, he asked, "...Did you?"

Rerik remembered the encounter—Desmond's fear and his own fearful shout—and looked away, ashamed.

A faint smile flickered across Yellow's face. It vanished almost as quickly as it came.

"Any news about what HE's planning?" Yellow asked, his tone sharpening.

Rerik looked side to side, then shook his head.

Yellow's gaze narrowed.

"Keep an eye on that new guard. Paige."

Rerik nodded.

They began walking together—Yellow steady, Rerik trailing behind.

Then—

BAM!

A dull, metallic thud echoed from somewhere below.

Yellow's eyes flicked toward the floor, head tilted slightly.

************************************************************************

Below, in the counseling chamber—

Desmond's bloodied knuckles dripped onto the metal table, a dent in the shape of his fist embedded in the surface.

"She. Is. Not. My. Sister." His voice was flat. Cold.

The Doctor said nothing at first. Then, quietly, he reached into his pocket and slid a folded handkerchief across the table.

Desmond didn't touch it.

The Doctor scratched his neck, then asked with unsettling calm,

"Then who is she, Desmond?"

Desmond forced a breath. 'Stay calm.'

"She was... a mortal girl."

"A mortal girl," the Doctor echoed.

"Then why did you react like that," he continued, "when I called her your sister?"

Desmond's eyes dropped.

"Because... she isn't."

The Doctor leaned back in his chair, legs crossed casually. His muffled voice drifted from behind the smooth white mask.

"But she was your sister. Back when you were a child. Back when you were still mortal."

"That doesn't matter," Desmond snapped. "That was over eighty years ago."

The words echoed too loudly in the small room.

The Doctor paused, then slowly turned his head to the obsidian-black walls around them.

"Desmond," he said, "do you know what the black stone actually does?"

Desmond nodded. "It messes with your head. Paige mentioned it."

He didn't want to mention yellow's story about the monster from the Deep.

'They already torture him enough.' that thought passed him.

"Correct," the Doctor said. "But do you know who it affects most?"

Silence.

"People without clear memories. Of who they were, or who they are."

Desmond's eyes flicked up.

"Becoming an immortal is a great boon. But the blood fusion comes with side effects," the Doctor continued. His tone was academic now, like a teacher reciting a textbook.

"Heightened senses. A hunger that never fades. Increased craving for pleasure, irritability... depression. These are known."

Desmond nodded slightly.

"But there's a rarer one. One you might understand personally."

The Doctor tapped the notebook in front of him once.

"Memory holes."

Desmond's gaze hardened.

"So what? My memory's bad. That doesn't mean anything."

"Doesn't it?" the Doctor tilted his head. "The black stone seeks minds like yours. Fragmented ones. It latches onto the gaps."

Desmond's heart started racing.

"The dreams..." he whispered.

"Recurring, aren't they?" the Doctor said softly. "Always the same. Aren't they?"

Desmond gave a slow nod.

"They'll get worse," the Doctor said. "Unless we address them."

A beat passed.

"Now... do you see why these sessions are necessary? Why we have to revisit your past?"

Desmond's fists clenched beneath the table.

"I'm not here to torture you, Desmond," the Doctor said gently.

"It's okay to hate her."

Desmond blinked.

"What?"

"I hated her too," the Doctor added — and there was heat behind the words. It wasn't a performance. There was something real beneath it.

Desmond stared.

"You… knew her?"

The Doctor nodded.

"We were acquainted," he said simply, checking the time on a slender silver watch.

"But that's for another session."

He stood.

"We'll talk again tomorrow."

Without waiting for a reply, the Doctor walked to the door and left.

Desmond sat in silence.

He stared at the white handkerchief for a moment.

Then he picked it up and wiped the blood from his knuckles.

For the hundredth time, he wished he'd fought harder when his father decided to send him here.

*************************************************************

Near the Deep, Mortal Lands.

On a stretch of cracked stone and scorched dust, four figures lay sprawled on the ground—sweating, breathless, and mildly traumatized.

A dog.

Two men.

And a little girl.

"Ahhh… are we far enough now?" Rocky asked, panting, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

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