CH61
Chapter 61
The moment the machine clamps shut around me, I know I’ve made a mistake.
My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out Peter’s voice as he mutters instructions from somewhere outside. I barely hear him anymore. All I feel is the cold steel against my skin, pressing down, and the sharp bite of the six-inch needles as they prepare to pierce my flesh.
The cold metal digs into my skin, holding me in place as the low hum of machinery starts up around me. It’s not the machine that scares me—it’s the needles. They are six inches long, each one designed to burrow deep into muscle and bone to extract what it needs.
The first puncture is sharp but tolerable, like a deep prick at the doctor’s office. But then the second needle goes in, and the third, and the fourth—all at once.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt—nothing I could have prepared for. Every nerve is on fire, my body seizing up as the needles dig deeper, reaching bone. The pain is so intense, I can barely think, let alone breathe.
I try to remember why I’m doing this, what the endgame is, but it’s all slipping away, lost in the agony consuming me. My head pounds, my muscles lock up, and I’m sure I’m going to die right here, inside this monstrous machine that was never meant for someone like me.
I bite down hard, refusing to scream. Not yet. But the pain spreads like wildfire, ripping through me with such force that I can’t keep my mouth shut. A scream tears its way out of me, filling the room.
"Phoebe…shit!" Peter shouts from somewhere outside the machine. “I’m stopping this. You’re in too much pain, blood pressure is crashing…I’m shutting it down.”
“No!” I gasp, barely able to get the words out as the needles sink in deeper. “Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t make this all for nothing.”
It takes everything in me to force those words out. My body feels like it’s being torn apart, like every cell is being pulled in a different direction. The machine isn’t just extracting my DNA—it’s trying to break me.
I hear Peter hesitate, his voice tense. “But Phoebe, you’re—”
“Keep. Going,” I manage between breaths. “Please.”
The pain intensifies. My vision blurs as the world narrows to nothing but the agony. I try to breathe, to focus on anything but the fire coursing through my veins, but I can’t. The machine hums louder, and the needles vibrate inside me, searching, probing deeper into my bones.
Doubt creeps in, insidious and undeniable. What if I can’t do this? What if this was a mistake? My decision to go through with this, to find the truth, suddenly feels reckless and naive. The pain is unbearable, and I’m not sure I can handle another second of it.
"I’m sorry," I whisper, my voice barely audible, choked by the pain. To whom, I can’t even say. Maybe to Wake, for not listening to him when he told me not to do this. To my grandmother, Anthozoa. To Delphinium. To Electra, the goddess who warned me. To myself, for thinking I could survive something like this.
The machine digs deeper, and the apology slips out again. “I’m sorry…”
Suddenly, there’s movement beside me, and through the haze of pain, I hear Wake’s deep, steady voice.
He’s right beside the machine. “Phoebe, mate of mine,” he says softly, his voice cutting through the noise. His hand rests on the cold metal, and the scent of petrichor and brine fills the air, soothing some of the madness racing through my mind. It’s his mating song—soft, steady, like waves lapping against the shore.
I can almost feel the ocean around me, cool and calming. For a moment, the pain dulls just enough for me to whisper his name. “Wake…”
He hums again, his voice stronger this time, and his words slip through the noise in my head. “Do you know what I’ve seen, Phoebe?” he asks, “Do you know the wonders this world holds? I have swum through columns of ice that stretch from the ocean floor to glaciers miles above. I’ve scaled the peaks of mountains that sank below the waves millennia ago…watched pods of narwhals dance their mating dances to the songs of the humpbacks and great blue whales. I’ve ridden the pororoca—a wave that lasts for miles, crossing through rivers and into the sea. These are the wonders of your world.”
I listen, focusing on his voice, trying to anchor myself to it as the machine continues to tear through me. The pain is still there, overwhelming and unbearable, but Wake’s voice is like a lifeline. He’s grounding me, pulling me away from the edge of insanity.
“And this, mate—this is only one world,” he continues, his voice steady and full of conviction. “You are meant to see more. To experience more. The gods mean for you to endure this. To survive it. Because my mate—my brave, reckless mate—is too hungry to be satisfied by a single universe. You will come through the other side of this.”
His words wrap around me, a promise, a threat. I want to believe him. I want to trust that there’s something beyond this, something waiting for me on the other side. The pain is still there, but his voice is louder now, stronger. I hold onto it, clutching it like a lifeline as my body threatens to give out.
“You are stronger than this,” Wake whispers, and for the first time, I start to believe it.
The machine hums louder, and I feel the needles retract slightly, pulling out of my bones. My body shakes, my limbs trembling uncontrollably, but Wake’s hand stays on the machine, his voice still calming me, still grounding me.
“There is much yet for us to discover, Phoebe. You will feel the ocean wrap around you, and you will know what it means to be truly free.”
My vision fades in and out, and I feel the pull of unconsciousness dragging me down. But his voice keeps me anchored, keeps me fighting just a little longer. I hear him, feel him, and for a moment, the pain dulls to a distant hum.
“You will survive this,” Wake says, his voice the last thing I hear as the darkness pulls me under. “Because you are meant to.”
With those words in my mind, I finally let go, succumbing to the darkness, unsure if I’ll ever wake again.
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