I walked into the hall, and the first thing that struck me was how wrong it felt.
Not abandoned. Not old. Wrong.The ceiling stretched too high, disappearing into shadows that the lights failed to reach. Long fluorescent panels flickered overhead, some dead, some buzzing with that thin electrical whine that crawls into the skull if you listen too long. The floor was polished but scarred, dragged lines crossing it in every direction, as if things had been moved in a hurry, or resisted being moved at all.The air smelled like disinfectant layered over something older. Metal. Rot. Burnt plastic. Fear, maybe. I didn't know if fear had a smell, but if it did, this place had perfected it.
We passed rooms.So many rooms.Some had shattered glass walls, spiderwebbed with cracks, the remains of restraints still bolted to the floors and walls. Others were intact, sealed tight, their interiors visible through thick panes. Inside them were tables stained dark, machines half-disassembled, IV stands bent at unnatural angles. Carts of syringes and vials sat abandoned, labels peeling, colors inside ranging from clear to cloudy to colors I didn't want to name.One room was full of cages.Empty ones.
Another held something worse. I looked for half a second too long and saw limbs that didn't match, joints where there shouldn't be joints, things covered in sheets that still moved beneath them. I turned away before my stomach could revolt.
No one spoke.The people escorting me moved with practiced efficiency. Armed. Alert. Not afraid in the open way. Their fear was the disciplined kind. The kind that waits.The deeper we went, the colder it became.
Down stairs. Then more stairs. Elevators that groaned as they descended, their lights dimming like they were reluctant to follow. Each level felt more stripped, more reinforced. Fewer windows. Thicker walls. Doors that required multiple confirmations to open.Basement levels didn't feel like basements anymore. They felt buried.Finally, we stopped.The corridor ahead was narrower, the walls smooth and white, almost reflective. The light here was unbearable. Too bright. Clinical to the point of cruelty. I had to stop and lift a hand to shield my eyes."Glasses," someone said behind me.
They were pressed into my hand before I could respond. Darkened lenses. Protective. I put them on, and the world dulled slightly, edges blurring until my eyes stopped burning.I hadn't worn these before.That realization settled in slowly, uneasily.They had increased the brightness.I felt it before I saw him.A pressure in the air, like standing too close to a storm without knowing where the lightning would strike. The smell hit next. Old blood. Dry blood. Something animal and sharp beneath it. Hunger that hadn't been fed properly.
The cell stood at the end of the hall.Not bars. Not a cage.Glass.Thick, seamless, stretching from floor to ceiling, reinforced so heavily it looked like part of the wall itself. No visible seams. No weak points. The kind of thing built by people who never wanted to be wrong even once.Inside, the light was blinding.White on white on white, flooding the room so intensely that shadows barely existed. The floor was painted red, two unfamiliar bodies laying on the edge,barley bodies.mostly bones with meat peaces attached to it.
And there he was.He stood near the center of the room, massive and still, like a statue carved from something that had once been alive and furious. His body was larger than before. Broader. Denser. Muscle layered over bone in ways that made no sense. Hooves planted firmly against the floor, leaving hairline fractures beneath them.Chains lay broken around him, discarded like shed skin.His head was lowered slightly, not in submission, but in focus. Teeth bared just enough to show they were there, sharp and countless, catching the light. His chest rose and fell in slow, controlled breaths that made the glass vibrate faintly with each exhale.
Too calm.That was the wrong part.I stepped closer without realizing it.His head lifted.Even through the glare, even through the glass, I knew when his eyes found me.The room changed.Not physically. The light stayed the same. The walls didn't move. But something in him shifted, and the air felt tighter, like it had been pulled too thin.His breathing hitched once.Then steadied.
He didn't roar. Didn't charge. Didn't bare his teeth further.He watched me.
Behind me, someone whispered something I didn't catch. Orders, maybe. Observations. I didn't turn to look.I couldn't.Because for the first time since I had walked into this place, since the first stair downward, the first ruined room, the first smell of rot and metal and fear—I felt certain of one thing.
They didn't bring me here to control him.They brought me here because I was the only thing in this place that still made him hesitate.And whatever they thought that meant, whatever conclusions they were building behind the glass and the lights and the needles—They were nowhere near ready for what would happen when that hesitation finally break.