Chapter 279
The moment the pod seals around me, my breath goes shallow.
Not because the air’s thin—it isn’t. The pod’s interior is self-regulating, climate-controlled, pristine. It’s because Lily is talking again, and every word out of her mouth is a fresh drop of poison laced with delusion. I’m trapped in a coffin with mood lighting and state-of-the-art bio-tech, and her voice is the static in my head that won’t shut up.
The lab around us is humming now—alive in the worst possible way. Everything smells faintly of ozone and antiseptic. The Darklite tubes stretching from my pod to hers pulse brighter, their glow crawling across the walls in jagged, serpentine shadows. It feels like standing inside the nervous system of some great mechanical beast.
She stands at the control panel with the confidence of someone who thinks she’s already won. Her fingers flick over the glowing interface like she’s tuning a playlist, not prepping a full-body overwrite of our DNA. I watch the movements—calculated, precise, methodical. She’s done this before. Not with me, obviously, but with others. Test subjects. Failures. Collateral damage.
The Darklite pulses again, brighter this time. It’s like the lab’s heart is beating faster now. And I can’t help but wonder if it’s responding to her mood—or mine.
“Here’s the elegant part,” Lily says, and her voice pours through the speakers inside the pod, too loud, too chipper. There’s a feedback hum when she moves too close to the mic, sharp enough to make my teeth ache. “We won’t even need the messy machinery you used to edit your DNA. You really went crude on that, by the way. Splicing with borrowed genomes, external retrovirus delivery... all so very messy. I mean, it worked, but barely. Like duct taping a jet engine to a bicycle.”
I glare at the glass in front of me. She can probably see it. I hope she can. I want her to know I’m listening. I want her to see I’m not afraid. Not yet.
She continues pacing, voice rising with giddy excitement. “But this? A full transfusion—your blood into my body, filtered through the Darklite as a mutagenic buffer—it should theoretically rewrite my own genetic code to match yours. Clean. Simple. Revolutionary.”
“You’re insane,” I mutter. The collar around my neck pulses with low, electric warmth. A warning.
She actually laughs. Like a real, delighted giggle. “Oh, please. Spare me the dramatics. You edited yourself, Phoebe. You just didn’t dream big enough. That’s always been your problem. You’re powerful enough, naturally gifted. But you’re easily impressed, and even more easily distracted.”
“Even if it works—your version of working—you realize what happens to me, right?” I snap. “My body will be filled with your blood. It won’t sustain me. I’ll die.”
She turns to face me with all the mock sympathy of someone playing a villain on stage. Smug. Serene. “Come on. You know better than that. No transfusion is ever fully complete. Your body will still be producing your own blood. Given enough time—especially with your little healing trick—your system will reassert itself. You’ll bounce back.”
“Yeah?” My jaw tightens. “So I just sit here, let you hijack my body, play God, and hope my blood eventually fixes your mess?”
“If you stop fighting me,” Lily says, stepping toward her own pod now, “we’ll both walk away stronger than we were before. You’ll heal. I’ll ascend. Everyone wins. Think of it as… mutual evolution.”
The collar tightens slightly again, like it’s seconding her motion. I grit my teeth.
“And when your guard dog shows up,” she adds, flipping a switch without even looking at me, “do us both a favor and keep him in check. I’d hate for him to ruin this delicate little process.”
A spark of fury snaps through my chest.
But I don’t say anything. Not yet.
Because she’s sliding into her own pod now—moving like it’s just another science experiment, not the start of a cosmic identity theft. She doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t flinch. Straps herself in. Adjusts her collar. Settles back like she’s prepping for a facial, not a complete bodily override. She exhales slow and deep, almost… meditative.
Then her eyes meet mine through the thick glass.
And she smiles.
That cold, victorious, we’re-not-the-same kind of smile.
“Let’s begin,” she says.
And she presses the button.
A low thrum rips through the chamber—deep and vibrating. I feel it in the floor, the walls, my ribs. The Darklite surges with new light, liquid stars pouring through the tubes that bridge our pods. It’s no longer a network of wires—it’s a conduit. A current. A ritual in motion.
The tubes between us glow blinding blue. I can see it now—my blood, drawn out and funneled through the Darklite crystal array, twisting like smoke made of light, traveling toward her. I feel it leaving. Not just physically. Energetically. Like someone peeling my skin from the inside.
My limbs go heavy. My vision wavers. My head starts to fog.
But I’m still here.
Still me.
For now.
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