"I told you not to create any more fucking problems, and instead of listening to me, you went out and put a bounty on our heads!" Lorien snarled, slamming his fist against the circular wooden table, making his olive, muscular arm jump back up. The impact sent a cup toppling over—thankfully, it was empty.
"I—I… I’m sorry," a weak voice stammered. "It got completely out of hand, boss. I don’t know what to say. It should have been an easy job, get in fast, upload the script, get out. Just like you planned. That guard wasn’t supposed to be..."
"Shut the fuck up, you idiot!" Lorien cut him off, his voice a sharp crack in the tense air. "I don’t want excuses! Just tell me you at least got the job done…" He exhaled sharply, spitting the name like a curse. "Demi."
"Y-Yeah," Demi managed, forcing himself to hold Lorien’s dark stare without blinking, writhing his thin hands. "We uploaded the code. We’re ready to disrupt." He could feel his pulse hammering in his throat, hoping the fear twisting in his gut didn’t show on his thin face. He forced his small stature to stay still, to look composed.
"Good." Lorien exhaled sharply, his sneer softening into something more calculated. "Then we need to move.. now!" He pushed himself up from his worn leather chair and stepped behind it, gripping its scuffed backrest, his olive fingers digging into the material. "Maybe this little fuck-up will work in our favor… If we strike immediately, they’ll be too busy cleaning up your mess to stop us." He let his words hang in the air for a moment before snapping his head up. "Go tell the others to get ready. I’ll be there shortly. Dismissed."
Demi bowed quickly, spun on his heel, and bolted out of the cramped, concrete-walled room, stepping into the dimly lit corridor beyond. The rhythmic hum of electrical systems and the steady rush of water filled the elongated space. Above him, a tangle of pipes, thick cables, and cobwebs stretched across the ceiling.
“You don’t deserve this treatment” Demi muttered under his breath. A single tear dropping into the dust on the concrete slaps beneath his feet.
This section of the underground hadn’t seen maintenance in years—and that’s exactly how they wanted it.
Demi had personally ensured that the service tram running through this tunnel was disabled, making it impossible for any unexpected visitors to come rolling through.
If anyone wanted access, they’d need to send a replacement tram, which would take time, time that the brotherhood no longer needed, now that their plans were moved forward, and this temporary base of operation would cease to exist.
As he walked, he took a slow breath, trying to clear his mind, ignoring the mix of dust and dampness clinging to the air. The electrical hum rose and fell in waves as he passed by the industrial hardware, his mind racing with both excitement and unease.
Five minutes of brisk walking later, his gaze absently following the faded blue paint stripe running along the lower half of the wall, he nearly missed his turn.
"You guys ready to move out?" he called out, trying to sound cool as he turned into a wider corridor. This one curved ever so slightly to the right, lined with small rooms originally meant for electrical cabinets, water piping, and waste management. The Brotherhood had repurposed them: bunks, tables, and a makeshift kitchen.
"What do you mean “ready”, Demi?" a voice called lazily from one of the rooms. "I thought we were waiting for the opportune time.."
"This is the opportune time!" Lorien’s voice boomed down the corridor. Just as he himself turned the corner, shoving Demi to the side.
The response was immediate. Within seconds, the narrow passage filled with thirty or so men and women scrambling to get into position. The moment everyone stood at attention, Lorien began pacing down the corridor, his sharp gaze sweeping over the group.
"Demi created a… small distraction," he said, his voice laced with icy sarcasm. "And while it was unintentional and nearly destroyed all our hard work, it will have sent the Enforcers on a wild goose chase. That gives us a rare opening." He let his words settle, pausing briefly before continuing.
"This means we have to strike—now. They’re already combing the system for changes. If we wait too long, they will find the breach. And if that happens, everything we’ve worked for will be for nothing."
The group murmured their agreement, though several shot cold glares in Demi’s direction.
Lorien took one final step forward. His eyes burned with conviction as he raised his voice.
"Are you ready my brothers and sisters?"
"YES, SIR!"
Three dozen voices roared back in unison, echoing down the endless service tunnels spreading out under the city.
--------
"I did it!" Jan proclaimed, a huge smile spreading across his face as he looked over at Lucien.
For the past few weeks, nearly all their free time had been consumed by the hacking project, and now, at last, they had broken through the security protocol. The deadline for Lucien’s participation in the sleep experiment was drawing closer, and this breakthrough had come just in time.
"What?! How?" Lucien asked, his voice filled with amazement as he hurried to the other side of the table, eyes locked onto Jan’s monitors.
"It was actually way harder than I expected," Jan admitted, still grinning. "Honestly, if we hadn’t learned how to prevent FIA on Thursday, I don’t think I would’ve cracked it." He looked up from the screen, his excitement still evident. "I jolted the chip at different intervals during the boot sequence until it was forced to dump the encryption key into the memory."
Jan was speaking faster than usual, his eagerness making his words tumble over each other. "When Metis explained it, it clicked for me—of course they wouldn’t focus on protecting against something like this. No one in their right mind would ever be dumb enough electrocute themselves just to break in to the chip.
He turned to Lucien, waiting expectantly for well-earned praise. Instead, he got a sudden, enthusiastic hug.
"You’re a fucking boss, man!" Lucien laughed, releasing him. "Now, how do we use this encryption key to unlock my chip?"
Jan rubbed his bloodshot eyes, slumping back in his chair. "Simple," he said, waving vaguely at the monitor while stretching his body. "We decrypt it, sift through endless lines of code, and figure out which command triggers the Wi-Fi protocol. Then, we pray that all the chips really are identical and that we can send the same command to yours without getting busted."
He let out a long exhausted sigh and leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. "But I’m completely spent, man. Let’s get something to eat and call it a night."
The next morning, they woke up and got straight back to work. Now that they knew what to do, their efficiency had increased tenfold. Even though they should have been focusing on their upcoming test, they couldn''t tear themselves away from their pet project—not when they were so close to the finish line.
Midday came and went, both of them still lounging in the clothes they''d slept in. Lucien, for once, felt somewhat rested. A rare occasion, considering he hadn’t had nightmares the night before.
A few days ago, he had spoken to Professor Moea about his recurring dreams and how to control them. Her advice had seemed frustratingly simplistic—Before falling asleep, tell yourself: My dreams are mine to control—but he had followed it nonetheless. Surprisingly, for the past two nights, the nightmares had stayed at bay. When he noticed his dreams taking a darker turn, he had managed to pull himself from REM sleep back into slow-wave sleep.
The downside, however, was that it left him more irritable and scatterbrained. But compared to his usual exhausted mental state, this was a vast improvement.
Lucien was staring intently at a piece of code when Jan suddenly broke his concentration.
"I''m getting tired of eating toast, and we’re out of a few things," Jan said, pushing himself up from his chair and heading to his room. "I’ll go to the dispensary and grab some supplies. You want anything?" He raised his voice slightly as he pulled on some clothes.
"Just don’t forget the coffee," Lucien muttered, barely looking up, his eyes locked on the screen as he struggled to find the line of code he had been reading seconds before. His vision blurred, the text smudging together, and despite his restful night, the familiar weight of mental exhaustion crept back in.
"Yeah, of course, man," Jan said, reentering the living room. Now somewhat presentable in a pair of sweatpants and an old, faded T-shirt—neither particularly clean.
"We also really need to do laundry," Lucien said, raising an eyebrow at the stains on Jan’s shirt. "When you get back, we’ll eat, call it a day, and do some washing. Deal?"
Jan smirked, pretending to be offended by the scrutiny, but he merely nodded. "Yeah, yeah, you’re right… See you in half an hour," he said as he stepped through the door, closing it behind him.
The sound of the latch clicked shut seemed to stretch endlessly for Lucien, wobbling the air like a loose bike bell on a gravel round while a deeper infrabass like sound made is eardrums reverberate at a near imperceivable slow frequency. A wave of drowsiness crashed over him, as though unseen hands had pinned him to the chair, injecting sedatives into his veins, dragging him toward unconsciousness.
He fought against it, forcing himself upright and out of his worn leather chair. His steps were sluggish as he trudged across the light brown floorboards toward the kitchen counter. Holding himself upright using the dinner table.
There, just out of reach, on the kitchen counter a mere spitting distance away, stood the life-giving coffee machine, still half full of a freshly brewed batch of caffeinated salvation. The room seemed to stretch, making progress impossible.
Lucien fell forward, the floor racing up to meet him as his world went topsy-turvy, he smashed his head into something with an audible crack, then darkness enveloped him…
You must return to us.
"Lucien?" A faint voice called. "Hey, Lucien—what the fuck are you doing? Get up, you idiot!"
He felt a gentle kick to the ribs. Groaning, he tried to open his eyes and lift his head.
The left side of his face felt sticky as he slowly managed to raise it. The sound of paper bags being rapidly dropped stabbed at his eardrums, making him groan even louder.
"Hey, man!, Hey Luc... oh easy there, not so quick! Oh shit, oooh shit!"
You must return to us.
Lucien felt hands gripping him under his armpits as he finally managed to get onto his elbows and knees, his eyes unwilling to see reality. He was hoisted to his feet. The sound of something metallic rolling over the floorboards rang in his ears like a thousand bells.
"Oh shit! Are you okay?! Come sit here!"
Lucien was slumped on the couch, his head throbbing.
"Lucien! Look at me, man!"
Two earth shattering kabooms rattled his brain as his friend banged his hands together in front of his face. Desperately trying to get a reaction.
You must return to us.
He threw his arms up to shield himself from the sonic booms, his eyes darting around the room, searching desperately for something, anything to anchor himself to.
But his efforts were futile, like trying to hold on to smoke. The world around him refused to settle, stretching and morphing between two separate realities neither of able to fully take hold.
One was twisted and vast, an endless expanse of darkness, strobing light, and tangled purple strands stretching infinitely, like the frayed remains of an ancient, decaying spiderweb, its strands barely touching, fragile, unraveling.
The other was a mundane, piece of shit coffee table cluttered with junk, his friend standing and four beige walls.
Neither world felt real. Yet both belonged, entwined as if one could not exist without the other.
You must return to us.
The faint sound of fingers tapping against glass hammered into his skull, breaking his mind apart.
"Hello? Yes, I need an ambulance! Second ring, Northeastern quarter, apartment 401, fifth floor! My friend has fallen, and he has a major head injury. It’s really bad, come quick!"
You must return to us.
Lucien became aware of a faint choir repeating a sentence in his mind. The rhythmic chant played over and over, drumming exhaustion into his bones, the chant slowly picking up speed, his very essence sagging under its weight.
You must return to us.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
His skeleton shuddered with every sound, each syllable dragging through the air like a million voices spoken in reverse, breath drawn inward instead of released. His ribs ached, stretching as if something inside him was pressing outward, straining against the cage of his bones, desperate to escape
You must return to us.
The chant rose and fell like the wheezing of an ancient squeeze box, breathing with him, through him, as if his own body had been rewired to house the sound. A constant eerie rhythm repeating over and over again.
"Don’t worry, buddy. Help is on the way. Just sit still!"
You must return to us.
Lucien''s awareness sharpened as he lifted his hand to his head. His fingers pressed into something wet and warm, the sensation delayed, as if his nerves were buffering behind reality. He pulled his hand away, blinking down at the dark smear glistening on his fingertips.
For a moment, his brain refused to acknowledge what he was seeing.
You must return to us.
He stared in horror at his crimson-stained hand, as the voices in his head reached a crescendo. Small writhing movements in his blood made a violent jolt of adrenaline tear right through him, his stomach twisted, his vision sharpened to needle points.
You must return to us.
His hands trembled, then clenched. The voices mutated, twisting into unnatural guttural roars that ripped through his skull, his blood on his hands lifting off his flesh, hanging weightlessly in the air.
You must return to us!
He thrashed, his body rolling against the sofa, hands on his ears, his muscles locked as the two worlds inside his mind crashed together, smashing into each other like tectonic plates, warping, breaking, then suddenly snapping into place.
THE EMPRESS COMMANDS IT!
"UUAAAH!" Lucien cried out with an ear shattering roar, leaving Jan with a ringing in his ears. "What the fuck, man?! Where the fuck am I?! What the fuck is going on?!"
The voices kept screaming in his ears, resonating with absolute dominion over his psyche.
He scrambled backward, arms and legs flailing against the sofa. The rough hemp textures scorched his bare hands as he kicked against the cushions, panic igniting in his chest.
A firm yank pulled him crashing back onto the couch.
"Get the fuck off me!" he yelped. Kicking and screaming, slinging his head from side to side, sending streams of crimson blood everywhere.
"Lucien, RELAX!" Jan bellowed, his eyes wide with fear. "I called an ambulance, but you need to sit still! You’ve got a huge gash on your temple! Ah fuck man, there is blood everywhere"
Jan stood over him now, pressing down with his entire weight, his expression somewhere between blood red dread and frustration. "What the hell happened?! I was gone for twenty minutes, man!"
Lucien swallowed hard, his mind finally forming a single constructive thought, one that wasn’t steeped in pure terror.
That was a good question. How had this happened, and how had he returned to his apartment? He had been somewhere else. In a void of infinite possibility, pure being, endless darkness.
Yet now, his memory was a void. There was nothing, except the endless stretch of time slipping away, stretching space infinitely, leaving the single echoing tone of what should have been a click before his world had felt silent, collapsing into black.
He tried to speak his mind, his voice croaked as his mind finally snapped, plunging him into darkness.
-----
"We’re in position. Awaiting orders, sir. Over."
Lorien’s grin widened, his yellowed canines glinting behind his pale upper lip. Around him, six figures crouched in the shadows, waiting. Not a word was spoken, only the weight of expectation hanging between them. He let the silence stretch, feeling the tension coil like a spring.
"Let’s do this."
They all knew what to do. No hesitation, no nerves—just purpose. Lorien lifted the ancient walkie-talkie to his mouth, barely above a whisper.
"Now."
The plaza remained still for half a second, as if the entire world had sucked in a breath. Then everything snapped loose at once.
A suppressed shot sliced the air, and the guard in the security booth jerked back, a spray of dark mist smearing the inside of the glass. His body slumped forward, his temple a ruined mess, one hand still limply gripping his gun. At the same instant, Demi tapped Enter on his laptop. Every light across the Central Hub flickered and died. The surveillance feeds cut to black.
For a brief, hopeful moment, the hum of backup generators rumbled to life. Then, just as quickly, they sputtered and went silent—cut down by Demi’s script faster than an investigation into Jeffrey Epstein’s client list.
"Good work with that, Demi. I guess you’re not entirely useless," Lorien muttered, clapping him once on the shoulder before lifting the walkie again.
"Go, go, go."
The first wave of operatives emerged from underground, manhole covers scraping aside as they poured into the streets in disciplined silence. Boots hit pavement. No shouting, no wasted movement, just bodies moving like a black tide toward the service entrance. The glass from the security booth crunched underfoot as Lorien jogged past, sparing only a glance for the nearly headless corpse slumped over the desk.
"Come on, charges—fast!" A hushed voice carried through the dark as they reached the main gate.
One of the fighters was already on it, his fingers moving with practiced urgency as he fished a compact thermite charge from his pack and affixed it to the locking mechanism. Someone muttered an impatient command, but the demolitions expert barely spared them a glance.
"Shut the fuck up, I’m moving as fast as I can. There."
A blinding white-orange light flared to life, heat radiating outward in waves. The metal groaned, curling away from the core of the blaze, the acrid stench of scorched steel rising into the windless night. Within seconds, the locking mechanism failed, the last remnants of the hinges dripping molten slag onto the pavement.
"Come on, come on," someone muttered, sweat beading on their brow.
The moment the lock clattered to the ground, three men threw their weight against the heavy door. It screeched as it gave way, metal scraping against concrete before slamming open. The breach was instant. Black-clad figures surged inside, rifles low and ready, sweeping through the dimly lit loading dock with swift, machine-like precision.
Lorien took in the space at a glance—a vast, high-ceilinged depot, its walls lined with industrial shelving. A yellow steel walkway stretched above them, leading to the freight elevator that connected to the underground conveyor network, the beating heart of the city’s supply chain. If they timed this right, the Brotherhood’s strike would bring the entire system to its knees.
"You," Lorien snapped, pointing to a bulky figure. "Get the door back into position." He turned slightly, fixing his gaze on a leaner silhouette. "Assist him. Immediately."
Then—movement in the dark. A sharp inhale. The scrape of metal on concrete.
A gunshot exploded through the enclosed space, the bullet slicing past Lorien’s face so close he felt the heat sear the air. The pressure in his ear popped, the shockwave rattling through his skull. But before the shooter could take another breath, death answered.
A loud whoosh carved through the air, as a half-meter of sharpened rebar blasted through the dark, slamming into the guard’s chest with a wet, crunching impact. Bone splintered like dry kindling. The sheer force tore him from the ground, lifting him into the air as the rebar punched clean through his ribcage, its jagged tip exploding from his back in a shower of blood, viscera, and shattered vertebrae.
For half a second, he hung there, impaled mid-air, his mouth frozen in a silent scream. Then the weight of his own ruined body dragged him down, but the rebar held, wrenching him to a sickening stop just above the floor. His organs or rather. what was left of them hadn’t made the journey with him. A slick mess of shredded lung, pulped heart, and glistening strands of intestine slopped wetly onto the concrete below, the heat of his insides steaming in the cold air.
The guards gun fell out of his limp hand onto the ground with a hollow clatter. His corpse twitched once, a final, pathetic reflex.
Lorien didn’t hesitate as he hurried forward. His senses were razor-sharp, every nerve alight with survival. The stench of blood and burnt metal thickening the air. He grabbed the gun and looked to the others “No time to linger, bring the bags”
His rebar-rifle was still warm, reassuring in his grip as he pressed forward, boots splashing through fresh blood. The Brotherhood moved in tight formation, shadows flickering against bare concrete walls.
Moving down a service corridor towards the center of the complex, they reached a T-junction. The point man pressed against the wall, breathing steady, raising his pistol like contraption, that fired 5mm steel balls. He moved carefully, inching forward, revealing the corridor in small increments. His barrel tracked left, sweeping across dim service lights and exposed pipes, nothing seemed amiss.
He shifted to the right. Another slow, methodical movement and peered down the corridor.
The point man’s head snapped back, as a bullet blasted through his skull. a mist of crimson and brain spraying the wall behind. He collapsed, his contraption clattering as his body hit the floor.
Lorien moved quickly to take point. Before the corpse had fully settled, he pointed the guards gun out from the wall and fired a couple of rounds blindly down the corridor. Bullets bouncing off the hard concrete surface, multiple finding their target. A scream of pain ran out. Lorien jumped sideways, laying in the middle of the corridor, as he turned on his flashlight, and fired another round into the light cone. The screaming instantly stopped and was replaced with a loud thump as the defender of the central hub crashed into the ground.
"Clear," he called called out, but the moment was already over. They were moving again.
Lorien stepped over the body, barely glancing down as he passed his half empty pistol to the first and best brother, and picked up a new.
The Brotherhood surged forward. More corridors. More resistance. The deeper they pushed, the more desperate the defenders became. Some fired until they ran out of bullets, then dropped their weapons and begged. Others fought to the last, screaming incoherent defiance as they were gunned down. A few tried to hide, pressing themselves into dark corners, their breath trembling in their chests as they prayed to be overlooked.
None of it mattered.
The Brotherhood moved as one, sweeping through the hallways, their makeshift armory quickly replaced with advanced weaponry, their path marked by bullet casings, shattered glass, and blood-slicked floors.
Then finally they reached the center of the hub.
An elevator stood before them, pristine and untouched, a stark contrast to the destruction raging through the facility. The stainless steel reflecting the flashlights.
"Get hacking, Demi!" Lorien barked, shoving the small gremlin of a man toward the control panel.
Demi scrambled to work, yanking out an electric power tool and rapidly unscrewing the panel. Within seconds, he had a portable device wired into the system, his fingers flying across the interface, desperately trying to force the elevator to respond.
"Nothing’s working, sir!" Demi whimpered.
“What!” Lorien boomed. Only to let out a snort, realization dawning. "Oh, right!"
Chuckling to himself, he smacked his forehead lightly, to cover his mistake in humor, he reached for his walkie-talkie.
"Ey, Bee, turn the goddamn power back on for the elevators, then get the fuck over here double time, the ship’s sailing. Over"
Barely five seconds passed before the hallway flickered to life, bathed in a soft white glow. Golden-framed paintings lined the walls, their elegant stillness at stark odds with the chaos unfolding.
Lorien turned to Demi, grinning.
"Sorry ‘bout that, Demi." His voice held a lazy chuckle, smooth and almost soothing, but his grin, Demi swore, was more unsettling than his usual scowl.
Then, just as suddenly, the grin vanished, replaced by a furrowed snarl.
"Now, pretty please," his voice dropped to a dangerous growl.
"Get the fucking elevator running."
With the power restored, it took only a few minutes to bring the elevator fully online.
A soft ‘Pling’ broke the tension as the doors whisked open, just as Bee came bolting down the hall way “Brothers, we’re busted! They’ve sent everyone! Prepare the defenses, and hold them of for as long as you can.”
He had only just finished his sentence, as an alarm started blaring out over the long hallway.
Lorien quickly stepped inside the elevator, four other Brotherhood members including Bee following close behind, carrying large dufflebags. He slammed his fist against the button marked -10.
Nothing happened.
Lorien’s eyes shot lightning at Demi, his expression a brewing storm.
"Don’t worry, boss, I got you!" Demi stammered, his voice barely audible over resounding alarm, frantically working the device. "Just needed the input from the button to unlock the command and bypass the security. Closing doors!"
The elevator doors slid shut, sealing them in.
Then, with a sudden lurch, the elevator rushed downward, plunging them into the depths of the city.
“Hurry brothers, Get the suits on!”.
-----
Serene golden sunlight poured in through the panoramic window, casting long streaks across the sterilized gray vinyl flooring. The steady beeping of a machine was the only sound in the room, apart from the soft rustling of fabric as Lucien shifted in the medical bed.
He turned onto his side, gazing out over the city—across the lush parks, beyond the sleek hydroponic tower stretching into the sky. The top of the tower vanished from view, obscured by the its sheer size compared to the floor to ceiling window.
His head ached, but even worse, it itched. The gauze wrapped tightly around his temple prevented him from scratching, trapping the irritation just beyond reach. He didn’t want to touch the wound itself, just the edges, where the itching was maddeningly persistent.
He tried rubbing the bandages, hoping for even a small sense of relief, but the sensation only sent ghostly, painful stabs through his body, doing nothing to quell the itching. With a frustrated sigh, he clenched his teeth and forced himself to ignore it.
The city sure is beautiful in the summer, he thought, his eyes drifting across the south lane, following its path toward the industrial complex. Beyond that, where the forests and fields should have been, the curvature of the Earth blended with the morning fog, rendering the distant landscape invisible, swallowed by the horizon.
As the sun passed behind the hydroponic tower, the light in the room shifted, filtering through the tubes filled with organic material. A soft green glow spread across the walls, turning the sterile white interior into something warmer, almost ethereal.
Lucien sank deeper into the pillows, his mind drifting, unraveling. The outlines of his subconscious flickered at the edge of his memory, fragments of his unconscious state popping back into his mind, as he had lied bleeding out on the dirty floor.
A figure, or perhaps an entire army had descended upon him.
They had fought off hordes of dream denizens, their movements blurring between battle and rescue, shielding him while they dragged his limp body away from the vast, purplish plane where he had been stranded.
The door clicked, breaking his train of thought, shattering the vivid imagery still lingering in his mind. It opened silently, slow and hesitant, and then, a woman’s head poked inside, her gaze locking onto his.
"Mom!"
Lucien tried to sit up, tried to reach for her, but the moment he moved, a wave of dizziness crashed over him, dragging him right back down.
His mother rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around him in a careful yet desperate embrace, holding him as tightly as she dared. She buried her face against him, her muffled cries rising softly between them.
"Lucien, what happened?" she stammered, her voice trembling, her eyes shining with worry.
As best he could, he told her everything—or at least, everything he understood. The incident. The strange dreams. The sense of something bigger looming over him.
But as they spoke, his thoughts drifted to something far simpler.
Something that mattered just as much.
“It’s been so long, Mom.”
His voice was quieter now, almost fragile. When he looked at her, there was sadness in his eyes.
“I’ve really missed you.”
With great effort, he sat up, leaning forward to hug her again. This time, he held on a little longer.
They talked for a while—about everything and nothing. It had been nearly three years since he had last seen her. Lucien tried to talk to her about programming, but quickly stopped himself as he could clearly see that she was only listening out of courtesy, not interest
She lived in another city, nearly five thousand kilometers southeast, in what had once been the Yunnan province of China. With the sheer amount of work and study they both had, there simply wasn’t enough time in the world to visit regularly—or to spend eight hours on a train just to see each other.
Yet now, she was here.
Lucien frowned slightly, a thought tugging at him.
“How did you get here so quickly?” he finally asked.
His mother’s brow creased.
“What do you mean, honey? I’ve been here for days.”
Lucien’s eyes widened.
“…What?” His voice barely left his lips. “How long have I been out?”
His mother’s face softened with sorrow, her gaze holding his.
“Two weeks, give or take a day,” she murmured. “We all knew you’d wake up eventually, but… your injuries were severe. They had to operate. Your chip had shattered into your skull.”
Her voice caught, throat tightening. “They spent hours… removing the pieces. They even had to refit you with a new port”.
She lifted her shaking hands to her swollen eyes, wiping away the fresh tears. Lucien watched her closely, and for the first time, he noticed how old she suddenly looked.
The deep furrows around her eyes.
The silver strands creeping into her dark hair.
A sudden realization settled over him.
“Mom… have you stopped taking the medication?” he asked quietly.
Her eyes darted to his, locking onto him sharply. She paused for a moment, then came a slow nod.
“Yes… I’ve decided it’s time.”
Lucien swallowed hard, staring at her, his own eyes starting to swell.
"Are you sure about this, Mom? Are you truly ready to lay down your life for another?"
She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head.
"Arh, Lucien, don’t be such a worrywart." She waved a hand dismissively, a playful smirk crossing her lips. "I’ve easily got another fifty years before I’m actually old. You won’t be getting rid of me that quickly!"
She laughed, grabbing his face in both hands and planting a big, smoochy kiss on his cheek.
“But thank you for worrying, nonetheless.”
Her eyes were full of love, as only a mother can look at her child. She sat back, watching him carefully, tilting her head.
“Are you ready to see the doctor now?”
Lucien exhaled, nodding.
"Yes."
His voice was quiet, but determined. He pressed his palms into the bed, straightening himself up as much as his body would allow.