Audra
The days blurred together in an endless cycle of attempts to awaken this so-called power. I had lost track of time—weeks, maybe months—every day a mirror of the last. Wake up. Eat. Lab. Repeat. They fed me twice a day with three snacks—these strange, flavorless protein bars that left my mouth dry. Worse, they always made me drowsy, as if sleep was forced upon me. Now that I thought about it, maybe that was the point. This morning felt no different. Like every other, I was given a cup of coffee and took my usual place on the balcony. The warmth of the cup did little to thaw the numbness spreading through me. I should have been furious that my life had been stolen, that I was trapped here like some experiment. But I wasn't. I didn't care at all. In fact, I felt... content. Acheron sat beside me, his presence now as routine as the bitter taste of the coffee on my tongue. "You know," he mused, barely glancing up from his phone, "if you're this obedient after awakening, I may not even have to kill you. As long as you do everything I say." A chill ran down my spine. Kill? The thought barely had time to settle before it was gone, slipping away like water through my fingers. Instead, I nodded absently. He hummed in satisfaction. "Such a good girl you've been." He stood, stretching. "Finish your coffee. Sylvin will come get you soon." And with that, he walked away. I stared into the cup, the dark liquid swirling. I had hated coffee once, but now I drank it without a second thought. Just another thing I'd adapted to. Just another piece of me eroding away. Right on cue, Sylvin poked his head through the balcony door. "Audra, you ready?" I nodded and followed him down to the lab. Once inside, I settled into the chair as Dr. Luna fastened the familiar restraints around my wrists. "Alright, dear," she said, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Today, we're trying something different. It might be a little... uncomfortable." I swallowed hard and nodded. She held up a large needle. "This is a numbing agent to help with the pain, okay?" Before I could brace myself, she drove the needle deep between my collarbones, piercing into my chest cavity. I writhed, gasping as liquid fire spread through my veins. The pain was unbearable, but after a few agonizing seconds, it dulled into a distant ache. Sylvin squeezed my hand reassuringly. "Good," Luna murmured, testing my skin with the edge of a blade. "Feel that?" I shook my head. "Perfect." She set the blade down and reached for a mask, pressing it over my face. "Just breathe, dear. This will help you relax." I obeyed, inhaling the strange gas until my body slacked against the chair. My mind drifted in a daze, floating somewhere between reality and nothingness.
Then, I felt it—the cold steel of a scalpel slicing down my chest. My breath hitched, but there was no pain. Just pressure. "Do you want to see?" I shook my head frantically. Luna ignored me, holding up a mirror. I stared in horror. My chest was open—but there was no blood, and no organs. Just a pulsing, glowing blue orb nestled where my heart should have been. "Fascinating, isn't it?" Luna mused. "This is your magic. Your elemental core. It will burn brighter as it awakens, growing stronger the more you nurture it." She reached for another syringe. "Now, this next part won't be numbed, so it might sting a little." Sylvin shifted and brought his grip on my shoulders. "Alright. Three… two… one—" The needle plunged into the orb. Agony exploded through me. My screams were muffled by the mask, my body jerking violently against the restraints. It felt as though my very soul was being torn apart. My vision blurred, darkening at the edges. "All done!" Luna chirped, completely unfazed. The pain was still there, raw and all-consuming. My chest ached, but something else burned beneath it—something deeper, something foreign. It felt as though a constant pressure was filling my body. "Shouldn't you have put her to sleep for that?" Sylvin muttered. Luna scoffed. "She's fine. Besides, it worked. Acheron will be pleased, and that's all that matters." She stitched me up, and they exchanged a few more words. Sylvin carried me back to my room. He placed me gently on the bed, careful to avoid touching my wound. I drifted in and out of conciseness, until I let myself succumb to sleep. "You should eat." I heard Sylvin say, his voice snapping me out of my slumber. My eyes flickered open, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting a soft halo around Sylvin's face. He stood by the nightstand, his usual guarded expression softened just slightly as he placed one of those awful bars beside me. "You should eat," he said quietly. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. My body felt heavier than before, like something was weighing me down from the inside. I barely had the energy to lift my head. "I'm not hungry," I rasped, my voice hoarse from sleep and exhaustion. Sylvin's gaze lingered on me, unreadable, but there was something there—pity? Regret? Maybe both. "Just try," he said, his tone firm but not unkind. I gave a weak nod, watching him from beneath my lashes as he hesitated before finally stepping away. Only when I heard the soft click of the door closing behind him did I let my exhaustion seep through completely. With a shaky breath, I reached for the protein bar—then, with what little strength I had left, I flung it across the room. It hit the curtain with a soft thud and disappeared behind the fabric. A hollow victory. I laid there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, feeling the slow, rhythmic pulse of something unnatural beneath my ribs. My skin burned like embers smoldering under the surface, an itch too deep to scratch, a fire too contained to be released. My fingers trembled as I lifted my shirt, sucking in a sharp breath. My fingers brushed against the raw skin, and I hissed, recoiling from my own touch. The heat inside me pulsed again—hotter this time, sharper. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my feet hitting the cold floor. My knees nearly buckled as I stood, a wave of dizziness washing over me. I braced myself against the wall, swallowing down the nausea that curled in my stomach. Each breath felt heavier, my chest tightening like something inside was expanding, pressing against my ribs, clawing its way to the surface. Water. The thought came instinctively, unbidden. My body craved it, like a dying forest begging for rain. Stumbling toward the bathroom, I gripped the edge of the sink, forcing myself upright. My reflection stared back at me, hollow-eyed and ghostly pale, strands of damp hair clinging to my forehead. Was this really me? My fingers trembled as I pulled at the hem of my shirt, lifting it high enough to expose the wound fully. My breath hitched. It was worse than I thought. The stitches barely held, the skin around them bright red and stretched too tight. Beneath the surface, something pulsed—something bright, something alive. A shudder ran through me. The fire inside burned hotter, an unbearable itch spreading through every vein. My nails dug into my arms, desperate to scratch away the feeling, but it only grew stronger. I bit back a cry, squeezing my eyes shut. I needed to cool down. I turned toward the tub, my fingers fumbling with the faucet. The moment the water began to rush, I climbed in—fully clothed, collapsing into the chill. Relief. The cool liquid lapped at my burning skin, soothing the fire inside me. My body slumped against the porcelain, chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths. I submerged myself sucumbing to the soothing chill. Then—pressure. A violent surge erupted from within. The water in the tub trembled, then shot outward in powerful streams, bursting past my control. The walls shook as water crashed against them, tearing through tile and glass. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears as the bathroom mirror exploded, shards flying like deadly raindrops.
Then—glass.
A deafening crack split the air as the floor-to-ceiling window shattered. The world tilted. My body lurched. The remaining water in the tub sloshing around. I gasped, scrambling to climb out of the tub. My foot slipped on the wet floor, my arms flailing for anything to hold onto. My fingers caught the towel rack, clinging desperately—
A sickening snap.
The metal tore from the wall.
The momentum yanked me backward. I barely had time to scream as I was thrown through the broken window. The cold night air rushed against my skin, and for a single, horrifying second—
I was weightless.
Four stories.
The ground rushed toward me. I sliced through the air, the wind knocked from my lungs. Panic surged, but there was no time to process, no time to react. The world blurred in a mess of lights and shadows, spinning, twisting—
Then—
Impact.
Pain erupted through me, the breath ripped from my body. My vision shattered, a final burst of white-hot agony—
And then,
Nothing.