Page 172 of Bonds of Starfall

He squeezed his eyes shut—and saw Rin’s face staring at him.

Kit put the sheet back on the bed, curling up beneath it.

"You’reready for the next stage," said the doctor.

Kit had been poked and prodded by so many that their faces blurred, but this doctor was somewhat familiar to him. He had dark hair, faint lines of age on his face, and a distant, detached stare. Kit guessed this doctor had seen him more often than the others.

Electrodes were stuck to his temples, hooked to a monitor to check his brain activity. He closed his eyes and heard the beeping.

The doctor pressed his hands on Kit’s temples, then down, checking his heart and vitals with a circular object. When it was passed over Kit’s body, it hummed faintly.

"Yes, I’d say we can get started—now."

Terror welled. Kit opened his eyes.

"Now?" he rasped, turning his head on the examination table to stare at the doctor.

The doctor’s clinical stare focused on Kit. "Yes. It’s time for stage three."

Kit made to push off the bed. No buckles or bindings this time. He’d become too complacent. The floor was cold against his bare feet as he pushed himself up to a stand. He towered over the doctor, who sat unperturbed in a rolling chair next to a computer. The screen showed an image of Kit’s body, zeroed in on his brain.

"That won’t be necessary," said the doctor.

Kit’s brows furrowed. "What?—"

The doctor lifted a gas mask and placed it over his head—it was too quick for Kit’s mind to catch up with—then pressed asmall button on the side of the desk. From the ceiling, a thick grey smoke descended. He tried not to breathe it in, but it was no use. Even craving death, his body’s natural desire was to keep fighting—to keep breathing.

Kit inhaled.

And he stumbled against the bed.

The last thing he saw was the doctor’s eerie face, hidden by the gas mask.

Voices spoke softly around him.A faint melody of classical music flowed from somewhere, nearly lulling him back to sleep.

"Wake up, Kiton."

He opened his eyes. The room was dark. Everything was dark. The lack of light was a welcome reprieve from the constant white of the halls and rooms he’d been in.

Sabine stood by the examination table he was on. It cushioned him, keeping his head slightly elevated compared to the rest of his body. A white sheet was draped over his lower half, and straps fit over every inch of his skin. He was strapped so tightly, he couldn’t even move his prosthetic arm.

"What is this?" Kit’s eyes were the only part of his body that could move. He stared wildly at the dark room, noting the many doctors standing around as if this was a concert or play of some kind—and he was the main spectacle.

Sabine drew closer. She wore light blue scrubs. Her features tightened as she stared at him. "There is no greater hunter than one who feels for his prey—but there is no greater weapon than one that doesn’t feel at all."

Talor stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. His hard brown eyes were accentuated by the scrubs, surgical cap, and face mask he wore.

"We’re going to take your love for your Soulbond and twist it into something unrecognizable," Talor said.

Kit’s breathing was ragged. "What do y-you mean?" Fear came at last, so heavy he almost passed out.

Sabine waved a hand to his body, stopping at his head. "We have to fix those emotions."

Something thick was fixed over his forehead, forcing his skull back against the table until he could no longer see Sabine or Talor—all he saw was the dark ceiling and the shadows of the doctors by his head.

"Those emotions," Sabine’s faceless voice echoed, "will only cloud your judgment. You are our Phoenix, risen from the ashes. Our weapon."

He strained against the bindings, but could not even manage to twitch his fingers; they were strapped down too. "I won’t be anyone’s weapon!" he roared.