The chamber lights flickered once, then steadied. Elias thought it was Magnus's sparks, until he saw Magnus's wide eyes.
"That wasn't me," Magnus muttered.
The observation glass above them shimmered — opaque at first, then suddenly transparent. Behind it stood three guards in black armor, visors down, weapons primed. A scientist in a white coat leaned over a console, his face a mask of clinical curiosity.
Elias's stomach tightened. They're escalating the test.
A mechanical hiss filled the chamber. Thin vents opened along the ceiling, exhaling a faint silver mist.
Nora stiffened instantly, eyes wide. "That's not air. That's a catalyst."
The guards' voices crackled through the intercom.
"Subject Group A: Response Evaluation, Phase Two. Survive or fail."
The mist thickened, and the boy with narcolepsy collapsed without warning, his body convulsing as his dream-storms ignited. Probability lines around him fractured, jittering like broken glass.
Aria growled. "They're trying to kill us."
"No," Elias said, forcing calm. "They're trying to measure us." His mind spun with variables — airflow, mist density, probability fractals unraveling around the boy. If they didn't act fast, they'd suffocate… or worse.
Magnus's fists sparked. "Then let's give them a show."
The External Threat Unfolds
The mist is designed to destabilize their conditions: amplify Aria's bone growth uncontrollably, send Magnus's fields into overload, and deepen Nora's visions until they spiral into nightmare.
The guards wait for weakness, guns humming with tranquilizer rounds — or worse.
The scientist takes notes, treating them like rats in a maze.
Nora clutched her head. "Dreams are twisting… they want us to break."
Aria slammed her fist into the ground, spines jutting wildly. "Good. Let them see what breaking looks like!"
Elias moved, voice sharp. "No. Listen. If we burn all our strength now, we lose. I need five seconds—just five—to stabilize the narcoleptic boy's probability storm."
Magnus glanced at the glass above, sparks arcing like coiled serpents. "You better be right, math-boy, because I'm itching to fry that smug bastard's console."
The chamber filled with silver mist, vision narrowing. Heartbeats quickened. The first true battle began — not against themselves, but against the system that caged them.
The vents exhaled harder, flooding the chamber with silver haze. The mist curled low, snaking between their ankles, creeping into lungs and veins.
The narcoleptic boy writhed, eyes fluttering as fractured probabilities shattered around him, spinning like broken equations. Elias saw them — jagged arcs of possible deaths, hundreds every second, each one tightening like a noose.
Nora pressed against the wall, clutching her temples. "It's feeding on us," she whispered. "The mist wants us frantic. Wants us afraid."
Aria's armor flared uncontrolled, bone spines jutting sharp as blades. She growled, feral. "Then it'll get a fight."
Magnus's electricity crackled so bright it lit the chamber, sparks dancing off metal restraints, searching for a target. "Say the word, Elias. I'll light them up."
Elias raised a hand, calm in the storm, eyes fixed on the writhing boy. "Not yet. If we strike blind, we lose. Hold."
The guards behind the glass shifted, weapons raised. The scientist leaned closer, lips moving without sound, recording every tremor, every reaction.
The mist thickened into a glowing fog, swallowing their sight, pressing them closer together. Heartbeats thundered in unison.
Elias spoke low, every syllable carved in steel.
"Listen to me. This is it. Either we hold — or we break. Stay with me."
And then the chamber dissolved into silver.