The morning heat shimmered across the black ridges of cooled lava, blurring the horizon. The land had been restless for days — tiny quakes rippling through the volcanic plains, the scent of sulfur clinging to the wind. Zander stood at the mouth of their cavern home, eyes narrowed, listening. Somewhere beneath the surface, faint and distant, he could hear it again — the hum of machinery, steady and unnatural, buried deep under the earth.
He had never heard anything like it before. It wasn't the whir of tectonic pressure or the grumble of magma flow. It had rhythm — a pulse that almost seemed mechanical.
Aetheros prowled beside him, tail twitching. His golden eyes reflected the early sunlight, sharp and alert. The great beast's ears flicked once, twice, and then stilled as if confirming what Zander already sensed.
"You hear it too," Zander murmured.
Aetheros rumbled low in his throat. Yes.
They set off across the black terrain, their boots and paws crunching over brittle volcanic stone. The air was hot and heavy, rising in waves that distorted the horizon. Zander moved cautiously, each sense heightened — the scrape of pebbles, the hiss of steam vents, the faint metallic tang of the air itself. The hum grew louder the deeper they went into the volcanic basin.
Aetheros suddenly stopped, nostrils flaring. He lowered his head, sniffing the ground, and then began to move toward a cluster of dark rock formations that jutted from the slope like broken teeth.
Zander followed closely, one hand resting on the hilt of his blade. The rock ahead didn't look right — too smooth, too symmetrical to be natural. The closer he looked, the more he saw the faint shimmer of alloy beneath a thin layer of dust and hardened ash.
Aetheros pawed at the ground, claws scraping away at the black crust. And there it was — a narrow metallic slit, almost invisible to the naked eye, hidden beneath centuries of debris.
"What is that?" Zander whispered, crouching beside it.
The hum vibrated faintly beneath his palm when he touched the metal. It wasn't just sound — it was alive, pulsing softly with energy.
Aetheros looked at him, the muscles along his shoulders rippling with anticipation.
Zander exhaled slowly. "Let's see where this goes."
Together they pushed at the hidden panel. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a low metallic hiss, the slit widened just enough for them to slip through, revealing a narrow corridor that descended sharply into darkness.
The walls were made of reinforced alloy, half-melted in places from the heat of the volcanic layers above. The air inside was stale and dry, carrying the faint scent of rust and oil. The hum echoed louder here, bouncing off the corridor walls.
They descended cautiously. The deeper they went, the hotter it became — until beads of sweat rolled down Zander's neck, and Aetheros's breath steamed faintly in the stifling air.
"Feels like we're walking into the core," Zander muttered, half to himself.
Deeper, Aetheros growled softly, ears twitching. Something calls.
Zander frowned but said nothing. He could feel it too — not a sound, not exactly, but a kind of pressure against his mind, subtle but growing stronger the further they went.
The corridor opened abruptly into a wide cavern. The air shimmered with heat, and molten streams glowed faintly beneath grates in the floor. Ahead, the tunnel seemed to dead-end — a wall of solid basalt.
"This can't be it," Zander said.
Aetheros sniffed the air again, pacing along the wall. Then he stopped, eyes narrowing. His claws scraped at the stone — and suddenly, a section of the wall shuddered, the surface flickering with faint light.
The illusion broke. What looked like basalt dissolved into an image of metallic panels. Aetheros stepped forward, pushing at it, and a hidden doorway slid open with a sharp hiss of decompression.
Beyond it, another tunnel descended — this one lined with cold metal and intermittent red lights that flickered dimly like dying embers.
Zander looked at his companion. "Looks like someone didn't want this place found."
Aetheros gave a low growl of agreement. Together, they moved inside.
The descent seemed endless. The air grew heavier, the walls closer. Every step echoed, swallowed quickly by the oppressive silence. Once or twice, Zander thought he saw faint scratches on the walls — claw marks, deep and irregular. Not Aetheros's. Older.
After what felt like hours, the tunnel widened again. The temperature dropped suddenly, replaced by a cool, metallic stillness.
They stepped into an enormous chamber.
Rows of broken consoles lined the walls. The floor was littered with fragments of shattered glass and metal. Long tables stood beneath hanging cables and lifeless monitors, each one thick with dust.
It was a laboratory — or what had once been one.
Zander's hand went instinctively to his sword. "Be ready," he whispered.
Aetheros's muscles coiled, golden eyes sweeping the shadows.
They advanced slowly, boots crunching over debris. A faint blue glow flickered intermittently from the far side of the room — the only sign of power still active.
Zander glanced around. The lab was vast — far larger than any surface facility could have been. The walls were lined with containment pods, most of them shattered or empty. Some still contained what looked like dried residue — dark, crusted material that clung to the inside of the glass.
"This was Prometheus," Zander said quietly. "I can feel it."
Aetheros growled low. Old scent. Metal. Blood.
They reached the center of the chamber, where several terminals sat dormant. Zander brushed away a layer of dust from one of the keyboards and pressed a few keys. Nothing happened. He frowned, searching the area, then noticed a small auxiliary power console on the side of the desk.
He flipped the switch.
The console flickered weakly to life. A faint green glow illuminated the screen, lines of corrupted code scrolling by before stabilizing into a login menu.
Zander exhaled. "Still alive."
Aetheros wandered farther ahead, drawn by something. His claws clicked against the metal floor as he approached the far wall, where a single reinforced table stood beneath a glass containment dome. Inside, resting in a secure cradle, was a small vial filled with a faintly glowing, golden-amber liquid.
The light from it reflected in Aetheros's eyes like fire. He lowered his head, sniffing.
Zander looked up from the console, noticing his companion's stillness. "What did you find?"
Aetheros didn't answer immediately. It calls to me, he finally rumbled.
Zander crossed the room, boots clanging softly. As he drew near, he saw the vial clearly — sleek, sealed, and perfectly preserved despite the decay around it. A thin strip of faded text ran along the label:
B.R.C. – Biological Regeneration Catalyst
Zander's brow furrowed. "Catalyst…?"
Aetheros's gaze remained fixed on it, nostrils flaring. His instincts screamed that this thing — whatever it was — was meant for him.
Zander held up a hand. "Don't. Not yet."
He turned back to the console, fingers flying across the keys. The terminal sputtered and then loaded a directory filled with old research files. Most were damaged beyond recovery, but a few still responded.
He opened one labeled 'Subject Enhancement Series – BRC Analysis.'
Lines of data filled the screen. Diagrams. DNA sequences. Test logs. Notes from Prometheus scientists.
Zander read aloud as he scrolled:"The BRC compound serves as a biological stabilizer and evolutionary amplifier. Designed to repair genetic breakdown and accelerate controlled regeneration in hybrid organisms. Unlike the failed L-Serum, the BRC allows molecular reformation while maintaining cognitive stability. It is a bridge — between natural evolution and designed perfection."
He stopped, eyes narrowing. "A bridge…"
Aetheros stepped closer, the golden light of the vial reflecting off his fangs. It repairs… it strengthens.
"Yes," Zander said quietly, still reading. "But it also says here: subject must possess an advanced hybrid genome to avoid collapse. Pure human subjects—" He frowned. "—pure humans can't handle it. It's lethal to them."
Aetheros growled softly. Then it is for me.
Zander turned to him sharply. "Maybe. Or maybe it's a trap left behind to finish what Prometheus started."
The beast's gaze didn't waver. I feel it inside me… calling.
For a moment, neither spoke. The hum of the buried generators echoed faintly in the distance, and the glow of the vial pulsed rhythmically, almost like a heartbeat.
Zander looked back at the console, scanning more files. There were reports of experiments, transformation sequences, results — most marked terminated. But one section stood out. It was labeled "Project ReGenesis – Phase 2."
He opened it.
The document described eight test subjects — hybrid children created through genetic fusion experiments distinct from the 24XY line. Some fused with animal DNA, others with plant-based bioforms, others with experimental synthetic compounds. Each classified as a separate Variant Line.
Zander's pulse quickened. "Aetheros… there were others."
Others?
"Eight of them," Zander murmured. "Prometheus called them 'The ReGenesis Line.' Each one fused differently — lizard, avian, arachnid, plant, aquatic…" He stopped reading, realizing the implications.
If these experiments had survived, then the remnants of Prometheus weren't gone. They were evolving.
He looked up at the glowing vial again. "This thing isn't just a cure. It's a piece of their work."
Aetheros stared at the BRC, unmoving. The golden light reflected in his eyes as if it already belonged to him. If it makes me stronger… if it heals what they broke… I want it.
Zander shook his head. "Not without understanding it fully. We don't know what it could do."
You said it heals, Aetheros growled. I feel it in my blood — it is meant for me.
Zander stepped closer, lowering his voice. "And what if it changes you into something you can't come back from?"
The two locked eyes — man and beast, brother and brother. The silence stretched.
Aetheros looked back at the vial, breathing slow, heavy. For the first time, Zander saw uncertainty in his companion's posture — the tension between instinct and trust.
He reached forward, claws brushing the edge of the containment table. The vial pulsed once, faintly brighter, as if responding to his presence.
Zander's pulse spiked. "Wait—"
The word hung in the air, caught between fear and destiny.
The hum of the buried reactors deepened, echoing like a heartbeat in the dark. The faint light of the vial shimmered across the lab's metal walls, painting both of their faces in gold.
And then — silence.