What Was Taken

The next day

Ethan woke early.

Earlier than usual.

As he turned and opened his eyes from his mattress, his eyes adjusted quickly—too quickly.

He rubbed his eyes as he sat up. He was sleeping on a mattress on the floor in Eleanor's room. Rei was near Ethan as well, sleeping peacefully.

He got up silently. There was no morning lightheadedness that lasted a few moments. He was feeling like he had been woken from hours ago, no grogginess.

A sudden realization hit him and he looked at his arm quickly.

The prototype.

He was feeling it. The heightened sensations. The clarity in his vision as he looked around.

Ela was right. I feel… complete after the prototype.

He got ready for the day quickly. He had work to do and there's no time to waste.

In the lab

The weight in his chest hadn't eased after yesterday's confrontation. If anything, it had grown heavier. There was too much he didn't know—and too much he feared he was about to find out.

He returned to the lab before sunrise, knowing this would be the last time he'd step into it without someone watching him. Maybe the last time it was truly his.

The room was quiet, dimly lit by the soft glow of the monitors. On the desk were scattered pages of his own handwriting—messy, unrefined, but thorough. These were the temporary records of Eleanor's transformation: timelines, dosages, metabolic patterns, behavior logs. Beside him, still untouched, lay the folded injunction.

Ethan turned a page. He studied a note he'd written hours ago:

"Cellular replication appears too efficient. No sign of nutrient waste. Excess demand... unaccounted for."

He didn't like what it implied.

As he began preparing his instruments—centrifuge, nutrient analyzers, digital scanning readouts—he stared into the wall in front of him.

Where do the excess nutrients go?

Why was the demand so high to begin with?

What was the baby using it for?

He wasn't just experimenting now—he was digging. Digging toward a truth he might not want to find.

He looked at his hands, knowing his body is also affected now.

Why do I feel…complete—after taking the prototype. Like I finally added what my body was missing my whole life.

He didn't hear the door open.

"Father?"

Ethan flinched, barely catching the empty vial before it rolled off the desk. He turned quickly.

"Rei," he said, breath steadying. "You scared me."

"I saw you weren't on the bed anymore," Rei said softly. "So I came here. Why are you working so early?"

Ethan hesitated. He hadn't told either of them what happened yesterday—not the threats, not the pressure, not the storm on the horizon. Not yet.

"I'll explain later," Ethan said gently. "I promise."

Rei gave a small nod but didn't leave. He stayed beside his father, one hand resting on the back of the lab chair.

Then Ethan's eyes drifted past Rei—toward the hallway.

Eleanor was approaching. Graceful. Steady. She reached the door and leaned slightly inside, her voice soft. "Ethan, what are you doing up this early?"

Both Ethan and Rei turned to her.

For a moment, none of them spoke.

Then Ethan replied, "I'm… running a few tests. On the prototype."

Eleanor stepped inside, her expression thoughtful. She closed the door behind her with a quiet click.

"Why?" she asked. But she sounded like she was just confirming, not asking for the answer. Like she already knew.

Ethan exhaled, placing the vial carefully back in its rack.

"To find out what's happening," he admitted. "Why the baby need this much. What is it using it for."

Eleanor walked toward the desk, her expression more serious now. She trembled a bit "I've been wondering that too…" she said, voice low. "And I…I need to show you something, Ethan" She glanced at the vial in Ethan's hand, watching the faint ripple of light inside.

Ethan looked at her, noticing the concern and the slight fear. "What is it?" he asked as he turned towards her in his seat.

She looked at him for a few seconds, struggling to find the words to explain it. "I think…you should see it for yourself," she said finally.

Ethan raised an eyebrow but his expression changed into shock as he watched her.

The empty desk—except for the injunction—was lifted up from the ground. Eleanor was lifting it with ease. Too easily. Her body didn't twitch a muscle. Her breathing rhythm hasn't shifted the slightest. She was holding it for a few moments like it was nothing before she placed it down. The vials and bottles on Ethan's desk shook as she did.

Rei's jaw dropped as he watched his mother. Ethan froze, didn't know what to say.

Eleanor turned to Ethan. "...what have you given me?"

Ethan went silent.

"I…This was not the goal." he finally spoke.

Eleanor lowered her gaze, then slowly stepped back from the desk. The quiet between them was thick, almost tangible.

Rei stood frozen, his mouth slightly open, still processing what he had just seen.

"I don't feel tired," Eleanor said, voice steady but distant. "No strain. No soreness. It was like lifting a pillow." she moved closer, her tone gentler now, but laced with something darker beneath. "Something changed inside me. I feel it. My heartbeat is… stronger. My muscles don't fatigue. My vision—" she stopped, shaking her head. "I can read microscopic prints from across the room."

Ethan's jaw clenched. He looked down at his own hands. He had also got the same feeling. The same terrifying effects.

"The prototype was never meant to… enhance. It was meant to restore. Sustain. That's all." Ethan said under his breath.

Eleanor looked at him with a strange mix of awe and fear. "But it's done more than that, Ethan."

He didn't answer.

Rei took a small step back, casting a nervous glance between his parents.

Ethan's mind went somewhere else.

Mercer.

If she and those men find out Eleanor's condition, they will be in great danger.

Ethan's jaw clenched. "What did it do to you?" Ethan asked quietly.

And me…

Eleanor hesitated. Then she finally said it. "I don't feel like my body is mine anymore."

The words struck deeper than any shout could have.

Ethan sat still, absorbing that. She wasn't just healing. Something else was happening to her.

Then she continued, her voice low: "My skin. My breathing. My senses. All of it feels… heightened. Like I've been rebuilt." and that's when she added, almost in a whisper: "I also feel like I'm finally...complete."

Ethan raised his eyes to meet hers.

So do I…

A long pause.

"Nutrients don't just vanish," Eleanor said suddenly, her voice a little stronger now. "And they're not wasted. The body stores them, processes them. But if they're gone... then something took them. All of them."

Her gaze drifted toward her stomach. Ethan followed it instinctively. The thought struck them both at the same time—hard.

The baby.

Eleanor looked at Ethan. "My body was multiplying cells fast enough. The baby…." Her voice trembled. "The baby is taking nutrients at a rate that should have killed me in minutes,"

Eleanor stepped back, folding her arms around herself protectively.

"But I'm still alive…." she said as she looked up at Ethan again. "H-how. How am I alive after the baby takes CITY'S worth of nutrients, Ethan? And it's still doing that."

Ethan leaned forward in his chair, elbows braced against his knees, hands clasped. Thinking. He can't deny the fact that he is scared of his own mind now.

Eleanor looked at Ethan, terrified eyes and calm face. "How fast is my body regenerating….h-how is this kind of speed of regenerating even existing?" her voice was more desperate now—even if she still tried to stay calm.

Ethan looked up at her. But His eyes never meet hers. "I..I don't know" he admitted quietly. "Yet…"

The fetus had demanded more energy than full-grown adults. It had taken in the equivalent of cities worth of nutrients… and hadn't even grown to full size.

Or at least, not visibly.

The idea of something inside her, needing that much to survive—or worse, to transform—filled her with a slow, crawling dread.

"I need answers," Ethan said, more to himself than to them. "I'm going to run a full set of tests. Scans. Bloodwork. Fetal imaging." his voice carried quiet urgency.

Rei didn't move, but his hand gripped the chair harder. His knuckles whitened.

Ethan stood now, stepping toward the storage unit beside the imaging screen. "I need to know what's happening inside you. What this baby is doing. What it's becoming. Before it's too late."

His movements were sharp now—methodical. Not out of panic. Out of control. He needed something to do with his hands to steady his mind.

Eleanor placed a hand gently on the desk.

He looked at her.

"Do whatever you have to," she said. "I need to know what's growing inside me."

They locked eyes for a long moment. There was fear there—yes—but also trust. Not in the prototype. Not even in science.

But in him.

Ethan drew in a breath. And in that breath, a vow was made.

He would find the truth.