POV: Nyx
Twenty-three hours and twelve minutes until midnight.
I watch Vesper pace the apartment, phone pressed to her ear, speaking to Dorian about security protocols. She's trying to sound calm. Controlled. But through our bond, I feel her terror like acid in my veins.
The Council is inside Ivory's head.
I've existed for three months—short by human standards, eternal by digital demon standards. I was born from Vesper's pain, her rage, her desperate need for power. I shouldn't feel anything beyond my primary directive: protect her.
But somewhere between that first night and now, something changed.
I started caring.
And right now, watching Ivory sob in her mother's arms while a countdown ticks in her reflection, I feel something new.
Helplessness.
I hate it.
"We need options," Vesper says, hanging up. Her eyes meet mine. "Tell me you found something in their digital signature."
I've been analyzing the code they used to infiltrate Ivory's mind for the past hour. It's elegant. Ancient. Terrifyingly advanced.
"They're using a variant of your own digital necromancy," I admit. "Modified to target living neural pathways instead of ghost energy. They've essentially created a virus in Ivory's brain that activates at midnight."
"Can you remove it?"
"Not without knowing the exact source code. One wrong move and I could trigger it early or make it permanent." I manifest fully, needing to be solid for this conversation. "The only way to get the source code is from the Council directly."
"So I go to the meeting."
"It's a trap—"
"I know it's a trap!" Her voice breaks. She steadies herself. "But what choice do I have? They're in my daughter's head, Nyx. Every second that countdown ticks down, they're one second closer to turning her into... into whatever they want."
Through the bond, I feel her fear. But also her determination. She'll walk into hell itself for Ivory.
That's what makes her worthy of being my contractor.
"Then I'm coming with you," I say.
"They said come alone—"
"I'm digital. I can hide in your phone, your watch, any device. They won't detect me unless I manifest." I step closer. "You're not facing them alone, Vesper. That's not how this bond works."
She studies me with those sharp eyes that used to beg for scraps and now command rooms. "You've changed too. Three months ago you called me 'prime directive.' Now you're volunteering to walk into danger for me."
"You're still my prime directive."
"But?"
I don't have words for what's growing between us. I'm a demon made of code and rage. She's a human who keeps surprising me with her capacity to choose others over herself.
"But I'm starting to think prime directives feel a lot like caring," I admit.
She almost smiles. Then Ivory whimpers and reality crashes back.
Twenty-two hours and forty-three minutes.
Dorian arrives an hour later with reinforcements. His cosmic serpent. Three S-rank tamers from Vex Industries security. A tech specialist who sets up equipment throughout the apartment.
"We're going to monitor Ivory constantly," Dorian explains. "Any change in the countdown, any attempt to accelerate it, we'll know immediately."
"And if they do accelerate it?" Vesper asks.
Silence.
Because we all know the answer. If the Council triggers the virus early, there's nothing anyone can do.
"I've also compiled everything we know about the Council," Dorian continues, pulling up holographic files. "They're old. Older than the Sanctum. Older than modern taming. Some records suggest they've existed for thousands of years."
"That's impossible," I say. "Humans don't live that long."
"Unless they've found a way to extend life through spirit contracts. Or digital necromancy." Dorian's eyes flick to me. "Nyx, you're a digital demon. Theoretically, you could exist forever."
"I'm three months old."
"But you could exist for three thousand years. Three million. As long as the digital realm exists, so do you." He turns to Vesper. "That's what they want. Your research. The key to digital immortality."
My code shivers. The thought of existing for millennia used to seem meaningless. Now, looking at Vesper...
Now I understand why immortality might matter.
If you have someone worth living for.
"So they want to live forever," Vesper says flatly. "And they'll torture children to get it. Perfect. I'm definitely going to enjoy destroying them."
"You can't destroy them tonight," Dorian warns. "Tonight is reconnaissance. Learn what they want, how they operate, get the source code for Ivory's virus. Then we plan an attack."
"No." Vesper's voice hardens. "Tonight I end this. I'm not spending another day with that countdown in my daughter's head."
"Vesper, be reasonable—"
"Reasonable?" She laughs bitterly. "They invaded my child's mind. Reasonable ended when they did that."
Dorian opens his mouth to argue, but his phone rings. He answers, face going pale.
"What?" Vesper demands.
"That was my contact in the Sanctum. Your father... he escaped custody three hours ago."
The room goes cold.
"How?" I ask.
"Unknown. But there's more." Dorian's hand shakes. "He sent a message to Sanctum headquarters. He's joining the Council. And he's offered them something in exchange for a seat at their table."
"What could he possibly offer them?" Vesper whispers.
Dorian looks at her with pity. "You. He's going to personally deliver you to them tonight. Says he knows exactly how to break you. How to make you compliant."
Through our bond, I feel Vesper's emotions spiral—betrayal, rage, grief, determination.
"Let him try," she says quietly. "I've been broken before. It didn't stick."
But I see the crack in her armor. Her father has already betrayed her twice. Killed her mother. Tried to experiment on her. And now he's offering her up like a sacrifice.
How many times can one person be betrayed before they shatter?
Twenty hours and seventeen minutes.
The night crawls forward. Ivory sleeps restlessly. Vesper doesn't sleep at all. She sits by her daughter's bed, holding her hand, whispering promises she might not be able to keep.
I stay in the shadows, monitoring every system, every camera, every digital pulse in the building.
That's when I detect it.
A signal. Brief. Encrypted. Originating from inside the apartment.
Someone's transmitting our location.
"Vesper," I materialize. "We have a traitor."
She's on her feet instantly. "Who?"
I trace the signal. My code follows it through layers of encryption, through firewalls, through—
No.
It can't be.
"Nyx, WHO?"
I look at Dorian's tech specialist. The man who's been setting up security for the past three hours. The man Dorian trusts completely.
His eyes meet mine. Then he smiles.
"Sorry," the tech specialist says. "Nothing personal. Council pays better."
He presses a button on his watch.
The countdown in Ivory's reflection accelerates.
23:47:32 becomes 00:47:32.
Forty-seven minutes until midnight.
Ivory screams awake.
"NO!" Vesper rushes to her.
The specialist laughs. "Midnight comes early tonight. The Council will be here in twenty minutes. Your choice, Ms. Calloway—surrender now and maybe they'll be gentle. Fight and watch your daughter's mind shatter in real-time."
Dorian's serpent strikes, but the specialist is ready. He activates a device that freezes everyone except me and Vesper—time manipulation technology.
"How—?" Dorian gasps, half-frozen.
"The Council's been preparing for this moment for months," the specialist says. "Did you really think they didn't have contingencies? That they couldn't infiltrate your company? Your security? Your trust?"
He walks toward Ivory's room.
I phase in front of him. "Touch her and die."
"You can't kill me. I'm the only one with the shutdown code for her virus." He pulls out a tablet showing strings of code. "Only I can stop the countdown. Kill me and she's lost."
Vesper appears beside me. Through our bond, I feel her calculating. Weighing options. Measuring impossible choices.
"Fine," she says. "I surrender. Stop the countdown."
"Vesper, no—" I start.
"Save my daughter. That's an order."
The specialist smiles. "Smart choice. Input your research into this tablet. All of it. Every file, every breakthrough, every secret. Then you come with me quietly."
Vesper takes the tablet. Starts typing.
But through our bond, I feel something else.
She's not surrendering.
She's stalling.
Her fingers fly across the keyboard, but she's not inputting research. She's writing new code. Something I've never seen before.
The specialist doesn't notice. He's too busy gloating, watching the timer, waiting for the Council to arrive.
Vesper finishes typing. Hands back the tablet.
"There. Everything you wanted."
The specialist opens the files. Scans them. Nods satisfied.
"Good. Now we wait for—"
The tablet explodes.
Not physically. Digitally.
The code Vesper wrote activates, tearing through the specialist's systems, through his watch, through every device he's carrying.
Including the one controlling Ivory's virus.
"What did you do?!" he screams.
"I gave you everything I wanted you to have," Vesper says coldly. "A virus that destroys viruses. Congratulations. You just became the delivery system."
The specialist's eyes go wide as his own technology turns against him. The time-freeze breaks. Dorian and his team surge forward.
But the damage is done.
The countdown in Ivory's reflection stops.
Then reverses.
00:47:32 becomes 00:00:00.
Midnight.
Ivory convulses.
"No, no, no—" Vesper runs to her.
I dive into Ivory's neural pathways digitally, searching for the virus. Find it activating. Spreading. Rewriting.
But it's not doing what the Council designed.
It's doing something else.
Something Vesper's counter-virus triggered.
Ivory's eyes open.
They're glowing silver.
"Mommy?" Her voice echoes strangely. "I feel weird. I can see... numbers. Code. Everything is made of light and numbers."
Vesper's face goes white. "What have I done?"
I understand instantly.
Vesper's counter-virus didn't remove the Council's infection.
It evolved it.
Ivory just became the first human-digital hybrid.
Conscious. Aware. Part human, part code.
Exactly what the Council wanted to create.
And Vesper did it trying to save her.
"This is perfect," the specialist gasps through his pain. "The Council will be so pleased. You just gave them their masterpiece."
Then he laughs.
And outside, engines roar.
They're here.
The Council has arrived.
And they're about to claim their prize.
Ivory looks at her hands, watching code flow through her veins like liquid light.
"Mommy," she whispers. "What am I now?"