The alarms faded into the distance.
Not stopped—just far away, like the building itself was holding its breath.
Shivis stayed on his knees for a moment longer, hands flat on the floor. His arms felt heavy, like he had run too far without resting. His chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath scraping his throat.
The warmth inside him stayed.
It didn't surge.
It didn't pull.
It just… existed.
He lifted his head slowly.
The soldiers near the broken door were still there. Some lay against the wall. Others sprawled across the floor, weapons scattered beside them. Their chests moved faintly.
Alive.
That mattered to him.
"I didn't hurt them," Shivis said quietly, like he needed to hear it out loud—even though he wasn't supposed to speak when alone.
The shape stood nearby, unmoving. Its outline was clearer now that the lights had dimmed. Cracks of faint light ran through parts of it, like heat trapped under stone.
Shivis pushed himself to his feet.
His legs wobbled, but they held.
He looked at his hands.
They were shaking.
He clenched them, then relaxed them again. Nothing strange happened. The floor stayed solid. The air didn't move.
"Good," he whispered.
The sealed space felt larger now. Or maybe emptier. The walls curved slightly inward, their surfaces etched with marks he didn't recognize. Some of them glowed faintly, then faded, like embers dying out.
The shape shifted.
Not toward him.
Toward the deeper dark.
A pull stirred in Shivis's chest—not strong, not painful. More like the feeling of knowing where to go when you wake up in an unfamiliar place.
"I don't know where this is," Shivis said. "Or what you are."
The shape paused.
Then it moved again, slow and sure, heading away from the ruined door.
Shivis hesitated.
He glanced back once.
The door was broken beyond repair. Light leaked through it in thin beams, flashing occasionally as people moved on the other side. He heard distant voices now—shouting, arguing, overlapping.
None of them called his name.
The warmth in his chest pressed once.
Not forcing.
Inviting.
Shivis swallowed.
"Just… don't let anything bad happen," he said, not sure who he was asking.
Then he took another step forward.
And followed.
Aerin was pushed back as the door finally gave way.
Not by force—by urgency.
Hands grabbed her shoulders, pulling her behind a line of guards as they rushed forward. She stumbled, barely keeping her balance, heart hammering in her chest.
"Clear the corridor!" someone shouted.
She turned just in time to see the damage.
The door was ruined. Twisted metal hung inward, scorched and bent like it had been folded by something much heavier than it should have been. Soldiers lay scattered near the entrance—some against the walls, some on the floor.
Alive.
She noticed that first.
Thank God.
"Medical!" she yelled, louder than she meant to.
No one answered her directly. People were already moving, stepping around her, talking over each other. Orders came fast, overlapping, changing halfway through.
"He's gone."
"No—he's still inside."
"Seal the section!"
"You can't—power's unstable!"
Aerin stared into the dark beyond the broken door.
"Shivis," she said, without thinking.
No response.
The darkness beyond the threshold felt wrong now. Not empty. Not hostile. Just… closed. Like a place that had decided not to let anyone else in.
A man beside her shook his head slowly. "He crossed the inner line."
"What does that mean?" Aerin asked.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he raised a hand, signaling the others to stop advancing.
That scared her more than the shouting.
She took a step forward. "We can't just leave him in there."
Someone caught her arm. "You don't understand."
"I understand he's alone," she snapped.
The grip tightened for a second—then loosened.
A screen mounted on the wall flickered to life nearby. Data scrolled past too fast to read. Then it froze.
SUBJECT LOCATION: UNCONFIRMED
Aerin's chest tightened.
"No," she whispered.
The screen blinked again.
TRACKING LOST
She looked back at the door.
"He didn't run," she said, quietly but firmly. "He didn't even know what was happening."
No one argued with her.
Because no one could say she was wrong.
---
Inside the sealed space, Shivis walked slowly.
The darkness around him shifted with each step, not retreating, not closing in—just adjusting. The floor beneath his feet felt solid, warm in places, cool in others, like it remembered different things.
The shape moved ahead of him, leading without looking back.
Shivis followed.
His breathing had steadied. His heart still raced, but his body listened when he told it to keep moving. He didn't think about the door anymore. He didn't think about the people.
He just walked.
The walls here were different—curved, uneven, marked with lines that didn't glow anymore. Some were worn smooth, others cracked deep enough to fit his fingers into.
"This place feels old," he murmured.
The shape slowed.
The warmth in his chest stirred—not warning him, not urging him on. Just present, like a reminder that he wasn't walking alone.
The darkness ahead opened slightly.
Not a room.
A passage.
Shivis stopped at the edge of it.
He didn't know where it led.
But behind him, there was nothing waiting anymore.
So he stepped forward.
And the space accepted him.
Outside the sealed section, the corridor slowly emptied.
Not because the danger was gone.
Because no one knew what to do next.
Aerin stood near the broken door, arms wrapped around herself, watching technicians place temporary barriers that everyone knew wouldn't hold if something decided to push back.
A man in a dark coat spoke quietly to another, his voice tight. "If he's crossed that far, retrieval isn't an option."
"What about containment?" the other asked.
The man didn't answer right away.
Finally, he said, "Containment only works when you know where something is."
Aerin turned sharply. "So you're just giving up?"
No one looked at her.
That answer was worse than words.
A screen nearby showed a static map—blank where Shivis should have been. The last marker blinked once, then vanished completely.
NO SIGNAL
Someone swore under their breath.
Aerin closed her eyes for a moment.
Please be alive, she thought.
That was all she could afford to hope for.
---
Inside, Shivis stepped into a wider space.
Not a room—more like a hollow carved out of something deep and solid. The air felt still here. No vibration. No pressure. Just quiet.
The shape stopped.
For the first time, it did not move ahead of him.
Shivis slowed too.
"Is this… okay?" he asked.
The shape didn't answer with words.
Instead, the warmth inside Shivis shifted downward, settling lower in his chest, heavier but calmer—like something finished moving and decided to stay.
The floor beneath him grew warm.
Not hot.
Comforting.
Shivis sat down without realizing he meant to. The ground felt solid, steady, like it would hold no matter how long he stayed.
He rested his hands on his knees.
His breathing evened out.
Whatever this place was, it wasn't pushing him anymore.
The shape lowered itself across from him—not facing him directly, not turning away either. Just… present.
Time passed.
Or maybe it didn't.
Shivis didn't feel hungry. Didn't feel tired. He just sat, listening to his own breathing, feeling his heartbeat slow.
"I don't know what comes next," he said quietly.
The warmth inside him did not answer.
But it did not leave.
Far above, in a place of lights and screens, people marked Shivis as unrecoverable.
Down here, Shivis closed his eyes for the first time since everything went wrong—
—and something ancient, patient, and unfinished finally settled beside him.
Not awakening.
Not yet.
Just waiting.
---