The subject's silhouette vanished into the darkness the moment the door shut behind us.
Its metallic footsteps echoed faintly down the far end of the corridor, followed by a warped, guttural clash—
like metal striking metal.
Then silence.
The kind of silence that means something is happening just out of sight,
and the safest place is anywhere not there.
Rowan clung to my sleeve, still shaking from moments earlier.
When the echoes finally faded, he whispered:
"Elle… I think it's fighting something else out there…"
Chandler stood rigid, back pressed to the closed door, muscles coiled like a loaded spring.
"Whatever's out there isn't human."
Horace hovered beside me, keeping one hand at the small of my back—steady, grounding.
Lucian flicked his tablet awake, its dim glow outlining his worried expression.
"We need to keep moving.
The fight buys us time, but not long."
I nodded.
Not because I was ready—
but because I had no choice.
LEAVING B5
Lucian led us out of Lab 5J and back into the corridor.
The lights flickered weakly overhead, buzzing like old wires tired of working.
A faint streak of dark fluid—oil? blood?—ran across the floor to the left, leading toward the direction Subject 07 had gone.
Rowan turned away, squeezing my hand.
"Don't look at it. We don't know what… that came from."
Chandler clenched his teeth.
"It wasn't Elle's fault."
Rowan nodded, though tears still pressed at the corners of his eyes.
Horace spoke softly:
"Eyes forward. We go down another level."
Lucian pointed at the far end of the hall—
a rusted maintenance elevator with a biometric lock sealed over it.
"That's our path to B6."
Chandler frowned.
"That thing looks dead."
Lucian smiled thinly.
"It is. But the locks aren't."
We followed him to the elevator.
As we approached, I felt… something.
A pressure.
A quiet vibration under the floor.
Like a heartbeat deeper inside the building.
Rowan felt it too.
He shivered.
"Elle… do you feel that?"
I nodded.
Horace glanced back at us sharply.
"Feel what?"
Chandler frowned.
"Because I don't feel anything except a headache."
Lucian looked between us—Rowan and me—with a slow dawning realization.
"Oh."
Rowan blinked.
"…oh?"
Lucian tapped the elevator panel.
"Elleanore has Elliot's resonance pattern.
Rowan's a Beta but bonded to her.
They're both sensitive to fluctuations."
Chandler crossed his arms.
"Speak human, Lucian."
Rowan wiped his face.
"He means… Elle and I can feel the resonance shifts on this floor."
Lucian nodded.
"And that vibration?
That means B6 is active."
Horace's jaw tightened.
"Meaning someone—or something—turned it on."
THE ELEVATOR
Lucian knelt in front of the biometric lock and removed its faceplate with a small crack tool.
Behind it lay a mess of wires, microchips, and one glowing strip that pulsed faint green.
Rowan studied it nervously.
"Is it safe to mess with that…?"
"No," Lucian answered simply.
"But it's necessary."
He began connecting his tablet to the underlying systems.
Chandler positioned himself behind Lucian, weaponizing his presence as a ready wall of muscle.
Horace stood close to me, voice low.
"Elleanore… if B6 is active, it means these experiments weren't abandoned."
I swallowed.
"Meaning Elliot is still being moved."
Horace's eyes softened.
"We'll find him."
My chest tightened, but I nodded.
I needed to believe him.
For my brother's sake.
For my own.
THE LOCK OPENS… WRONG
Lucian muttered under his breath, fingers darting rapidly.
"Come on… come on… bypassing Caliban's override… almost—"
The lock beeped.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
DING—ACCESS GRANTED
WELCOME BACK, SUBJECT 07
Rowan froze.
Chandler swore.
Horace's hand gripped my arm.
Lucian stared at the screen.
"…That wasn't me."
I felt cold.
So cold.
Rowan looked up at Lucian, pale.
"Then who—?"
Lucian swallowed.
"Someone linked Subject 07's biometrics to your pheromone signature…"
Horace finished:
"Which means Elleanore is now keyed as Subject 07."
My breath stopped.
"No—
No, I'm not—"
Rowan grabbed my hand tightly.
"You're not. You're not, Elle—"
Chandler exhaled sharply through his nose, fury simmering under his skin.
"They're trying to make her part of the experiment."
Lucian nodded grimly.
"Exactly.
And this elevator doesn't open because of clearance.
It opens because of recognition."
Horace stepped between me and the panel.
"Then she doesn't touch the controls again."
Lucian scanned the inside.
"It's safe.
Mostly.
But once we step inside… B6 will know we're coming."
Chandler cracked his knuckles.
"Let it."
The elevator groaned to life.
Rowan clung closer to me.
"Elle… are you sure? We don't have to go—"
I shook my head.
"We do."
Horace met my eyes—steady, fierce, and painfully protective.
"We'll be with you the entire way."
Lucian nodded.
And Chandler added quietly:
"No one takes you like they took him.
Not while we're here."
DESCENT INTO B6
The elevator jolted.
Lights dimmed.
A low hum vibrated through the floor, crawling up my legs, into my chest.
Rowan held his breath.
Lucian's expression sharpened.
Chandler's eyes darted around.
Horace moved closer to me, arm brushing mine, grounding me.
The hum deepened.
Then—
the elevator lights flickered to red.
Rowan gasped.
Chandler reached instinctively for Horace, steadying him against the wall.
Lucian cursed quietly.
"Oh no.
This isn't right."
Horace pivoted immediately.
"What's happening?"
Lucian shoved his tablet toward the panel.
"The elevator isn't descending normally."
"What does that mean?" Chandler snapped.
"It's scanning."
Rowan flinched.
"Scanning what?"
Lucian swallowed.
"Your pheromone profile."
The hum intensified.
The elevator shook.
Chandler slammed a hand against the wall.
"Turn it off!"
"I can't," Lucian hissed.
"This is an automated containment scan!"
Horace stepped in front of me, shielding me fully.
"Elleanore—stay behind me. Don't move."
The lights flickered again.
A metallic voice filled the elevator.
Cold.
Emotionless.
Monotone.
"CONFIRMING SUBJECT 07…
MATCH: PARTIAL…
MATCH: STRONG…
MATCH: 82%…"
Rowan choked.
Horace stiffened.
Chandler's entire posture coiled like a loaded spring.
Lucian whispered:
"It's reading her as Elliot's replacement."
The voice continued:
"MATCH: 92%…
MATCH: 97%…
MATCH…
CONFIRMED."
The lights slammed to white.
Rowan covered his eyes.
Chandler cursed.
Horace growled under his breath.
Lucian lifted his head slowly.
"It accepted her."
The elevator chimed.
Soft.
Almost gentle.
"Welcome…
Successor."
My blood ran cold.
Rowan's hand tightened painfully around mine.
Horace exhaled sharply.
Chandler slammed his fist against the elevator wall.
Lucian went very, very still.
After a breathless moment, the elevator opened.
THE B6 HALLWAY
Cold air washed over us.
Sharp.
Sterile.
Stinging.
The hallway beyond was different from B5.
B5 looked abandoned.
B6 looked alive.
Lit.
Clean.
Active.
And lined with glass rooms.
Behind the glass—
Rowan gasped and grabbed my arm.
Chandler's jaw dropped.
Horace's breath stopped.
Lucian whispered:
"Oh stars…"
Behind the glass walls stood—
rows of empty restraints.
Headsets.
Suppression chairs.
Resonance chambers.
Dozens of them.
All polished.
All used recently.
All waiting.
But that wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was the plaque above the first glass room:
PHASE 2 CONDITIONING – SUBJECT 07
Rowan nearly collapsed.
Chandler grabbed him.
Lucian stepped forward.
Horace held my arm tightly.
I stared.
Frozen.
Unable to speak.
My brother…
My twin…
had been taken deeper than this.
And this—
This place was meant for the one who came next.
Me.
Horace whispered:
"Elleanore…
we need to move before someone finds us."
But I couldn't move.
Not yet.
Not when the next plaque read:
"Secondary Subjects:
07-A
07-B
07-C
07-D…"
Rowan's voice cracked into a sob.
"These were all…
children…"
Chandler's face tightened.
Lucian inhaled slowly.
"This was only the second floor."
Horace steadied me with both hands.
And that's when—
we heard it.
A faint sound.
Like nails dragging along metal.
From deeper down the hall.
Then a voice—
hoarse, distorted,
but unmistakably human.
"…Elle…"
My breath stopped.
Rowan clutched me.
Chandler froze.
Lucian's eyes widened.
Horace whispered:
"Elleanore…
that wasn't the same subject as before."
My legs trembled.
Because I knew that voice wasn't Subject 07.
It wasn't mechanical.
It wasn't broken.
It was something else.
Something that remembered me.
Something deeper.
Something closer.
Something—
familiar.
The Voice Behind the Glass
The sound drifted down the sterile corridor:
Soft.
Broken.
Human.
"…Elle…"
Not distorted like Subject 07.
Not mechanical.
Not lifeless.
A voice that belonged to someone
trying to remember how to speak.
Rowan squeezed my hand so tightly it hurt.
"Elle… Elle—
That… that didn't sound like him, but it—"
He swallowed hard.
"It sounded like it was trying to."
Chandler stepped in front of us, body tensed.
"Stay behind me.
Whatever that is, it's not Elliot."
Horace's arm slid protectively in front of my waist.
"Elleanore—don't move without me."
Lucian scanned the hallway with his tablet, frowning at the pulsing readings.
"That… wasn't Elliot's voice pattern," he said softly.
"But it was based on it."
Rowan looked at him, horrified.
"What does that mean?"
Lucian tapped his tablet, voice dropping:
"It means someone… or something here was trained to echo his vocal profile."
Chandler's jaw clenched.
"They made copies."
"No," Lucian corrected, "they made echoes.
Imitations."
Rowan's eyes filled with tears again.
"That's worse."
Horace nodded grimly.
"Yes.
It is."
THE APPROACH
We walked cautiously down the hall, the sterile white tiles reflecting our faint reflections along the glass walls.
The lights dimmed the further we moved.
Lucian whispered:
"The sound came from Lab 6C."
The plaque read:
6C — Vocal Conditioning Unit
(PROTOTYPE ONLY)
Chandler frowned.
"Vocal conditioning?"
Lucian swallowed.
"They tried to re-create a subject's voice profile using another."
Rowan's voice trembled.
"How… how is that even possible?"
Lucian didn't answer—
because the truth was right behind the glass.
A shape moved inside the room.
A slumped figure in loose hospital scrubs.
Hands bound with restraints.
Head down.
Bare feet dragging against the floor.
The overhead lamp flickered once, illuminating—
the cracked remains of a voice-modulation mask
dangling from its face like a broken muzzle.
Horace inhaled sharply.
"Oh gods."
Chandler whispered:
"That's not Elliot."
Rowan's knees wobbled.
"I-I know—
but—"
He covered his mouth.
"It sounds like it's trying to… remember him."
Lucian brought us closer.
The figure jerked at the sound of our footsteps.
Slowly, it lifted its head.
The light hit its face.
And the world stopped.
THE ECHO SUBJECT
Its face—
wasn't deformed.
Wasn't masked.
Wasn't metal.
It was…
human.
A young man.
Pale.
Gaunt.
Hair shaved close.
Skin bruised under the jaw where a mask had rubbed raw.
Eyes vacant and glassy, but still—
alive.
Broken.
But alive.
When he saw us,
his eyes twitched.
Then widened slightly.
A fractured gasp escaped him.
Like someone seeing brightness for the first time in years.
"…Elle…"
My breath caught.
Not Elliot.
Not exactly.
But close.
Too close.
Rowan sobbed openly now.
"He… he's not Elliot—
but he was made to pretend to be—
Elle, he's—"
Chandler stepped forward.
"Back up," he warned quietly.
"It's still a subject. We don't know what it'll do."
Lucian nodded.
"He's unstable.
The echo program rewired large parts of his vocal and instinctive centers."
Horace held my arm, steady and firm.
"Elleanore… do you recognize anything?"
I shook my head slowly.
"No.
He's not my brother."
But something in my chest twisted painfully.
Because the echo subject
stared at me
like I was someone he'd been waiting for.
He raised one trembling hand
and touched the clear glass wall between us.
Then whispered again—
so soft I nearly missed it:
"…El…lie…"
Rowan flinched.
"No—No, please—don't call her that—please don't—"
His voice cracked.
"Only Elliot calls her that…"
Lucian went still.
"That's the point," he said quietly.
"They made him repeat what Elliot used to say."
I pressed my hand to my mouth.
Chandler's face darkened with rage and disgust.
Horace whispered:
"Elleanore…
don't blame yourself for what they made him become."
The subject pressed its forehead against the glass.
Eyes unfocused.
Lips trembling.
Trying to form a name it didn't truly know:
"…Elle…"
This wasn't a mimic.
This wasn't an attacker.
This was someone broken into an echo.
And I—
I couldn't leave him trapped like that.
Not again.
THE DECISION
"Lucian," I whispered,
"can we open the door?"
Rowan panicked.
"Elle—no—no—no—
we don't know what he'll do—"
Chandler grabbed my arm.
"If he gets close to you, we won't have time to react."
Horace leaned close, voice low.
"We are not risking you."
But Lucian didn't dismiss my question.
He stared hard at the subject—
at the trembling frame,
at the bruises around its wrists,
at the raw skin around its throat.
Then he whispered:
"…I think he needs her."
Rowan shook his head violently.
"No—he needs help, not—"
Lucian met his eyes.
"Rowan.
He's imprinting."
Rowan stilled.
Chandler exhaled slowly.
Horace's jaw tightened.
I whispered:
"On… me?"
Lucian nodded.
"He's echoing Elliot's imprint reflex.
He was conditioned to do it.
He sees you as a stabilization source."
Meaning:
He sees me
as the only thing
that keeps him grounded.
My stomach twisted.
Horace shook his head.
"Elleanore… this is too dangerous."
Chandler growled softly.
"We don't know what he'll try."
Rowan squeezed my arm.
"Elle… please… I can't watch you get hurt…"
But something in me shifted.
A quiet instinct.
A pull.
Not because he was Elliot.
But because he was one of the lives stolen by this place.
One of the voices turned into an imitation.
One of the broken subjects
left behind
in my brother's wake.
I whispered:
"If I walk away—
if I just leave him here—
I'll be doing exactly what Caliban wants."
Horace froze.
Lucian inhaled sharply.
Rowan covered his mouth, eyes filling with tears again.
Chandler cursed under his breath.
Because we all knew—
I was right.
Leaving him behind
meant agreeing with the system
that turned him into a tool.
A ghost.
An echo.
I stepped forward.
Horace caught my wrist.
"Elleanore—"
I looked up at him.
Soft.
Steady.
No panic.
Only purpose.
"…let me try."
His breath trembled.
I saw it—the fear, the conflict, the instinct to protect me from anything and everything.
Rowan clung to my sleeve, whispering:
"Please be careful…"
Chandler looked away, jaw set tight.
Lucian approached the door controls.
His voice was quiet.
"If he makes even one wrong move,
we pull you back immediately."
I nodded.
"Okay."
Lucian flipped a switch.
The lock clicked.
I stepped forward.
The door hissed open.
THE ECHO SUBJECT REACHES OUT
The subject jerked at the sound.
His eyes—glassy, trembling—locked onto me.
He stumbled forward.
Not fast.
Not predatory.
Just…
like someone whose legs were barely remembering how to obey.
When he reached the edge of the doorway,
his breath hitched.
The bruised skin around his throat moved with each inhale.
His voice shook.
"…Elle…"
He dropped to his knees.
Hard.
Then crawled—
slow, agonizingly slow—
until he was close enough to lift one trembling hand toward me.
But he didn't touch me.
He hovered it an inch away.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Terrified.
Like a child afraid of being punished for wanting comfort.
Rowan sobbed again.
Chandler's fists trembled.
Horace pressed a hand to my back, steady and warm.
Lucian whispered:
"He won't hurt you.
He's seeking permission."
So—
I lifted my hand.
Slowly.
Gently.
And placed my fingers against his.
His entire body convulsed in a silent sob.
His forehead lowered shakily to my palm.
And for the first time,
he spoke without distortion.
Not Elliot's voice.
But his own.
Small.
Broken.
Pleading.
"…help… me…"
My chest cracked open.
Horace bowed his head.
Rowan collapsed into Chandler again.
Lucian turned away briefly, jaw tight.
I whispered:
"I will."
The echo subject trembled violently, pressing my hand to the side of his face.
Because for the first time in his life
someone touched him
not as a tool
not as an experiment
but as a person.
I knelt beside him.
"Can you tell me your name?" I whispered.
He shuddered.
His lips parted.
A single, fragile sound escaped:
"…Se…v…"
Lucian inhaled sharply.
Chandler frowned.
Rowan blinked through tears.
"'Sev'? As in…?"
Lucian answered softly.
"As in…
07."
Horace whispered:
"He named himself."
My throat tightened.
"Sev," I murmured,
"we're going to help you.
We're going to help all of you."
Sev leaned into my touch.
For the first time,
he stopped shaking.
Lucian looked up.
"We need to move.
But he can follow us."
Rowan's eyes widened.
"He… can?!"
Lucian nodded.
"He's imprinted on her.
As long as she's here,
he'll protect us."
Chandler grinned faintly, tiredly.
"Then let him come."
Horace placed a hand on Sev's shoulder, steady and cautious.
"Stay close to her.
Let us guide you."
Sev nodded once.
Weak.
Shaking.
But willing.
I stood.
Sev followed.
Fragile.
Silent.
Ours.
We moved deeper into B6.
And the shadows moved with us.