Our journey to the station took the entire night.
Dawn had turned the sky a bruised gray by the time we were standing under the rusted subway sign that read HOLLOW BEND. While drawing the faded map that was taken out of the clone's pocket, Rowan kept one hand on the blade that was strapped across his back.
"This is the location," he declared. "The coordinates are exactly the same."
I gazed at the fallen train tunnel, its entrance barred by a rough ivy and concrete wall.
I muttered, "It's a dead station."
"No." An old repair box sat open on the side panel, and Rowan ran his fingers along it. Beneath layers of grime, a keyboard inside blinked to life.
He pressed the screen against his wrist, which was marked with a crescent.
BEEP.
The concrete moaned.
The whole wall shifted.
Stone pulled back. Metal moved sideways.
Beneath the station, a silver-lined, clean tunnel opened, humming faintly with electric blue light.
Not forgotten was Project Moonfall.
It had been holding out.
________________________________________
As we descended, the temperature dropped.
Deeper than any known subway map ever documented, the tunnel extended beneath the city. As we continued on, it became increasingly apparent that we were entering a different world, one in which the wolves were neither enemies nor folklore.
They were the subjects.
Looking at the walls, which were lined with observation glass and dormant technology, I questioned, "Blackwood built this under the city?" "How many were aware?"
"Too many," Rowan remarked. "And the majority of them failed the initial round of testing."
The hallway divided into two sections. LABORATORY A-BRIDE SELECTION SERIES is the name of the room to the left.
A rusty sign with the words ARCHIVE 47: MARIS FILE on it stood to the right.
I gasped.
"I am that."
Rowan gave me a close look. "We don't need to open it."
I moved in the direction of the door.
"We do."
The lights inside turned on by themselves. It was a steely, cold room. Holoscreens hung in rows above vacant seats. Dozens of suspended memory crystals were glowing dimly on the far wall.
However, the picture on the desk was what stopped me.
I was the one.
Not lately.
Not developed.
Me as a kid.
Three years old, perhaps.
staring directly into a security lens while seated on a sterile bed and connected to machines.
I took a swallow.
Stepping next to me, Rowan picked up a gem that was marked SUBJECT 47-A.
He extended it. "Want to see?"
I gave a nod.
He inserted it into the viewer.
The room also changed.
Static glistened. Then a tape started playing on the wall.
In the picture stood a younger me, my mother's hair pulled back, her lab coat smeared with blood. " Log 9: Subject 47-A remains steady. Although Mark hasn't shown up yet, the response to the phases of the moon keeps increasing. Propose delaying extraction until the synthetic twin is prepared for comparison.
She hesitated.
Note: The child reacts more favorably to touch. Her twin completely rejects it. I'm afraid I made a mistake.
The movie stopped.
My heart was pounding as I stood there.
I muttered, "My mom worked here." She wasn't merely fleeing from them. She contributed to its creation.
Rowan touched my shoulder. She made an effort to keep you safe. However, she participated in the primary trials.
I pivoted. "So what am I? A weapon? A daughter? A foretelling?
"You're all three," he declared. "But what happens next is up to you alone."
Above, the lights flickered.
Then a second holoscreen came on.
Without prompting.
and started playing another clip.
No timestamp.
A child curled up in a corner in a pitch-black room.
She raised her head.
I was younger, but it was me. Weeping. whispering to an off-screen individual.
"I'd rather not be her. All I want is to return home.
The voice then emerged.
distorted.
Low.
"Then we'll make you forget if you don't resist the next time."
The video ended.
The screen cracked.
I staggered back.
I said, "Someone is watching." "Remaining connected."
Rowan pulled out his sword. "We must leave."
However, the floor beneath us split as we turned.
As the tiles fell away and engulfed us in a lower level, I let out a scream.
Rowan slammed into a box and I rolled into a wall as we hit the ground hard.
My ribs started to hurt.
darkness.
Then the emergency lights flickered red.
And a figure turned to face us from the vault's far corner.
A female.
Silver eyes.
The face grew older.
but well-known.
Rowan let out a gasp.
"Maris..."
I shook and stood slowly.
"No," I replied. "That isn't feasible."
The woman took a step forward, her hand trembling a little.
Her voice broke.
"Hello, my love."
My mom was the one.
alive.
and donning the badge of the Council.