Page 2

CHAPTER 2

T he walls weren’t walls.

They shimmered like heat rising from asphalt, rippling with an iridescent sheen that made Sylvia’s eyes ache. No corners. No seams. Just smooth, concave surfaces pulsing with a faint blue light.

She sat on the floor, her back against the cool curve behind her. Her skin still smelled of salt and the ocean, but now it was layered under the sterile sting of something chemical. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her knees. She hadn’t spoken in hours.

Maybe she’d forgotten how.

There had been no sky since the light took her.

Just the white flash on the beach. The crackling hum. The sensation of gravity flipping upside down. Then darkness. Now this.

A metallic click echoed beyond the curved partition.

Sylvia’s head snapped up.

The wall in front of her shimmered again, the surface folding inward like melting glass. She scrambled to her feet, her bare soles skidding slightly on the smooth floor.

Three figures entered.

The first was short and thickset, its green skin glistening under the chamber lights like oil on stone. It waddled forward on thick legs, powerful arms swinging loosely at its sides, claws clicking softly with each step. Its eyes were black pits. Cold. Lidless.

Her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t fear at first. It was instinct. Primal.

The thing wasn’t human. And it didn’t care if she was.

“S-Stay back,” Sylvia said, her voice raw.

It didn’t respond. Didn’t even pause.

Instead, it tilted its head, emitted a string of dry, clicking sounds, and tapped a device on its thick belt.

Pain.

Instant, searing, indescribable.

It burst through her neck like lightning. Her knees gave out. She dropped to the floor, hands clawing at the collar she hadn’t even realized she was wearing. A scream tore out of her before she could stop it—hoarse, ragged, full of shock.

Then it stopped.

She gasped. Gagged. Her whole body trembled, teeth chattering. The metal around her throat pulsed once, like a warning.

Through blurred vision, she saw two more enter behind the green brute.

Tall. Thin. Graceful.

Alien.

Their faces were completely blank, covered by smooth plates of mirror-dark glass. Their bodies moved like water, silent and unsettlingly precise. Their long fingers glided through the air as they approached her, as if they didn’t walk—they drifted.

“No,” she rasped. “Don’t?—”

They grabbed her. Cold, hard fingers. No response to her struggling, her kicking. She cried out, tried to fight, but the collar hissed again, and pain shot through her body.

Her limbs gave up.

They stripped her.

Effortlessly.

Like she wasn’t even a person. Just an object.

Tears slid down her cheeks, but she bit her lip to keep from sobbing. She wouldn’t give them that. Not yet.

They dragged her to another chamber. Mist poured down from overhead—warm, dense, and laced with that same sterile, sharp scent. She stood naked beneath the jets, trembling as invisible streams scoured her skin.

She clenched her fists.

“I’m not a fucking animal,” she whispered.

But no one heard her.

When the mist faded, they handed her garments—if you could call them that.

The fabric slithered between her fingers like something alive. Slick, dark purple, trimmed in silver. The top hugged her chest tightly, leaving her arms and midriff bare. The lower piece was worse—high-cut, narrow, showing far more than it covered.

Shame battled fury in her chest.

They wanted her on display.

And that meant she was being prepared for something.

She tried to ask: “ Where am I? What is this place? What do you want from me?” But her mouth stayed shut. Her throat felt raw. Useless.

They marched her back to the cell.

The green one returned, stood in the doorway, and clicked something at her in its grating language. Then it pointed to the collar again.

Obey.

She didn’t respond.

The creature stared for another long moment, then turned and left.

When the wall sealed shut, a panel hissed open and a tray emerged.

Grey paste. A cup of water.

She didn’t move toward it.

Not yet.

She slumped against the far wall and pulled her knees to her chest. The outfit clung to her, a second skin she couldn’t shed. The cell was quiet, save for the steady, low hum of the systems around her.

Everything inside her was screaming.

Sylvia had always thought of herself as strong. Stubborn, even. The kind of girl who didn’t back down, didn’t run from fights.

But now she felt impossibly small.

And whatever this place was—whatever was coming—it wasn’t a fight she knew how to win.

Not yet.

But she would.

She had to.