The heavy oak door of their living quarters swung open, revealing Charolette, her face a mask of cold efficiency, flanked by two of the Baron's guards, their long firearms glinting under the dim corridor lights. The threat was unspoken, yet utterly clear.
Beatrice's voice, a fragile thing, rose in a desperate plea.
"Please, I don't want to do this. The Baron… he has to let us go."
Her words barely finished before the sharp crack of a gunshot echoed and a bullet whizzed past her head, just inches from her ear, embedding itself in the wall behind her. The armed man, his face a grim, unyielding mask, lowered his smoking firearm only slightly.
"I won't miss twice."
Beatrice collapsed to the floor, a strangled gasp tearing from her throat, her body seized by an series of pure, unreasoning terror. The other stood, their feet transfixed to the floor. Only Emmett moved, stepping over to her with detached efficiency. His expression remained cold, unyielding. He knelt, his voice a low, steady rumble.
"Do you want to live, Beatrice, or do you wish to die?"
Her eyes, wide and desperate, fixed on him.
"Live,"
she choked out, a raw, primal whisper.
"Then you will obey,"
Emmett stated, extending a hand to her.
"It is our best shot at survival."
She reached for his hand, trembling, but the sheer weight of her fear kept her pinned to the cold floor. She tried to push up, her legs giving way, and she fell back, a sob catching in her throat.
"I… I can't stand."
Emmett sighed, a faint wisp of impatience in the sound. He scooped her up effortlessly, supporting her weight as she leaned heavily against him, her body still wracked with tremors. He then turned his cold gaze on Felix and Rhys.
"You have a choice,"
Emmett said, his eyes narrowing slightly as they met Rhys's, a faint memory of the punches from moments ago flickering in their depths.
"You can choose to obey, or you can defy the Baron. As for you, Rhys,"
he added, his voice dropping to a low, chilling whisper,
"I hope you die by the Baron's hand."
Rhys's face flushed crimson, his hands clenching at his sides, but Charolette's sharp voice cut him off before he could respond.
"Enough!"
Her tone was laced with an impatience that brooked no argument.
"Either you follow now, or Baron Calvin's men will ensure you do not move again."
The two guards clicked their firearms, the metallic sound a final, unnerving confirmation. Charolette turned, her crisp uniform a stark contrast to the dim corridor, and began to walk. The six children followed immediately, including Felix and Rhys, who had been on the verge of defiance, the cold glint of the guards' weapons made them realise that death was a far more immediate threat than humiliation.
They proceeded down the corridor, the silence punctuated by Beatrice's ragged breathing and the soft click of their shoes on the polished floor. They reached a massive, brass-riveted elevator door, the one that had taken them down to the Baron's laboratory 2 weeks ago, its surface humming faintly.
Charolette punched a code into a panel beside it, and with a deep whoosh of compressed air and a groan of powerful, unseen gears, the elevator doors slid open. Inside, it was an ornate room of polished wood and gleaming brass, with a single, large lever on a central console.
As they descended, the rhythmic hissing of steam pipes and the grinding of counterweights filled the shaft. Briar, who stood beside Emmett, kept glancing at Beatrice, who still leaned heavily against him. A flicker of something stirred within her—a raw, unsettling knot of jealousy at the closeness, the implicit protection Emmett was offering.
The elevator came to a halt, the doors hissing open to reveal a starkly different world. The laboratory was below the manor, as they knew, but the sterile, advanced nature of it always felt strange compared to the Kingdom above ground.
Charolette led them through a maze of bright, wide hallways, the air thick with the faint, metallic scent of ozone and the clean, chemical tang of antiseptic. As they walked, she spoke without looking back.
"The Baron's orders are clear. You will report to the lab every day for medical tests and assessments. These tests will last four days. On the fifth day, Calvanite will be introduced into your system."
She pointed down various intersecting corridors as she spoke, her voice flat and informative.
"This is the West Wing; it houses the medical tests and the infirmary. The South Wing is for physical tests and training. The East Wing is where Calvanite is produced and tested, and where you will receive your injections."
Curiosity, momentarily overpowering his fear, pricked Felix.
"What about the North Wing?"
he asked, his voice cracking slightly.
"What happens there?"
Charolette paused, her back still to them, a subtle tension stiffening her shoulders.
"I'm not aware of any 'North Wing',"
she said, her tone deliberately casual, too casual.
Corbin, ever the logician, spoke up.
"If there's a South, East, and West Wing, there must logically be a North Wing."
Charolette visibly tensed, a faint tremor running through her. She spoke, more to herself than to them, her voice barely a whisper, yet sharp enough to cut through the hum of the lab.
"I can't tell you. The Baron… he would hand me over to those monstrous twins."
Corbin's eyes narrowed, a cold suspicion sparking within them.
"What twins?"
"Silence!"
Charolette's command was sharp, final. But it was too late. The name had been uttered. Corbin's mind raced. He remembered the Baron's casual mention in his study of two children, twins, who had survived previous experiments. Could Charlotte be referring to them? He decided he would find out, one way or another.
They finally arrived at a large, brightly lit room in the West Wing. It was filled with advanced diagnostic equipment, gleaming steel tables, and rows of intricate, brass-domed devices that hummed with internal clockwork. Emmett carefully helped Beatrice into a reclining medical chair, her body still trembling.
"Before the main tests begin, your current medical status must be ascertained,"
Charolette announced.
Moments later, a group of figures in pristine white coats entered, their faces obscured by clear visors. They moved with a practiced, unsettling efficiency. Blood was drawn from each of them, their eyes meticulously checked by whirring optical devices, and their reflexes tested with pneumatic taps. The atmosphere was sterile and clinical.
After what felt like an eternity, the first group of scientists exited, and a new group entered. This time, they carried six syringes, each filled with clear water. Charolette stepped forward, a small, dark vial of Calvanite in her hand. With deliberate care, she added a single, shimmering drop of the purple substance to each syringe. The clear liquid swirled, taking on a faint, ominous violet hue.
The scientists, their movements devoid of emotion, approached the children.
Rhys instinctively recoiled, his jaw tightening, but a cold glint from a guard's firearm stopped him. He braced himself as the needle pierced his skin.
Felix whimpered, his eyes squeezed shut, his head turning away from the approaching syringe, a small, terrified sound escaping his lips as the liquid entered his arm.
Beatrice sobbed quietly, already in a state of shock, barely registering the prick of the needle as she stared into the ceiling.
Corbin watched, his face a mask of grim acceptance, his eyes tracing the movement of the liquid into his vein, as if mentally analyzing the process.
Briar flinched, a sharp intake of breath, but held herself rigid, a spark of defiance refusing to let her break.
Emmett, as ever, remained perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the scientist, his body a stone.
After the last injection, Charolette started a timer on a complex, gear-driven device in her hand. Nothing happened at first. The room remained silent, save for the faint hum of the lab equipment. Then, a low sound escaped Felix's lips. He began to convulse, his hands flying to his head, his fingers clawing at his hair as if trying to rip it out.
"My head! It burns!"
he shrieked, a bloodcurdling scream tearing from his throat.
Rhys, too, began to convulse, his body arching violently before he collapsed to the floor, completely out cold. Felix followed soon after, his screams dying out as he fell, his limbs twitching.
Beatrice's convulsions were more violent, her small body thrashing against the chair. Her eyes rolled back, reddening, before she too passed out, a faint foam appearing at the corners of her mouth.
Corbin and Emmett lasted a bit longer, their bodies fighting the foreign substance with a terrifying internal struggle. Corbin's jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek, and a guttural groan escaped him before his eyes fluttered shut and he slumped unconscious.
Emmett, remarkably, remained upright for a few more seconds, his entire body rigid, before he slowly toppled forward, falling to the floor with a heavy thud.
Briar, the last one standing, swayed on her feet, her eyes wide and unfocused. She tried to take a step, her legs giving out beneath her, and she fell to the floor, her body seizing as unconsciousness claimed her.
The instant Briar's body went limp, Charolette stopped the timer. She looked at the display, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips.
"One minute and forty-five seconds. The highest record we've had so far."
She turned, her crisp uniform rustling, and left the room, presumably to deliver the results to the Baron. Behind her, a new team of men in white coats, equipped with stretchers, entered the room to transport the unconscious children to the infirmary. The humming of the lab continued, oblivious to the silent screams of the six broken children its sterile floor.