White light pressed through Eli's closed eyes.
Not bright enough to hurt. Just clean, cold, and impossible to escape. The kind of light used in hospitals. It gave off a soft electric hum that felt too loud in the silence.
For a moment he did not move.
Did not breathe.
Something felt wrong.
His body felt heavy, like gravity had increased. Every muscle hurt with a deep ache that did not match any wound he remembered. His skin felt tight, like it barely fit.
Then his mind caught up.
He was lying down.
Restrained.
Cold bands held his wrists and ankles to a narrow medical bed. A clear oxygen mask covered his face. Tubes ran from his arms to floating fluid packs, dripping into his veins.
Memory came back in broken pieces.
The sphere melting into his hand.
Pain.
Darkness.
Something huge inside him.
Eli's eyes snapped open.
A white ceiling stared back at him, smooth and clean, filled with lights and sensors. No alarms. No panic. Just quiet voices and machines somewhere far away.
Medical bay.
He let out a shaky breath, then froze.
His voice sounded wrong.
Too rough.
Too dry.
His throat burned like he had swallowed dust.
He tried to swallow.
Nothing happened.
Panic flickered.
He lifted his head enough to see the tubes in his arm.
"No," he rasped.
The mask turned the word into a low animal sound.
He grabbed a tube.
Pulled.
It tore free with a wet pop, spraying fluid and blood across the sheet. Pain flashed, sharp but distant, like it was not fully his.
He grabbed another.
Pulled again.
Alarms exploded across the room.
He sat up. The restraints creaked under the strain.
A nurse turned, eyes wide. "Patient awake. Security."
The band on his wrist snapped.
Not slowly.
It just broke, splitting apart as if it had become weak.
Eli stared at it, breathing hard.
I did not mean to do that.
The bands on his ankles broke next as he swung his legs off the bed.
The room spun.
He grabbed the bed frame to stay upright.
Then hunger hit him.
Not normal hunger.
A deep empty pain that felt like it went through his whole body. Like something inside him had been scraped clean.
He gasped and grabbed his stomach.
"What is happening?"
The doors burst open.
Lieutenant Carrow entered with two armed soldiers. They aimed their weapons, then stopped when they saw Eli standing among broken restraints and screaming machines.
"My lord," Carrow said, lowering his gun. "You should be in bed."
Eli blinked at him. Everything looked too sharp. He could see every tiny detail of the man's face. Sweat. Pores. The pulse in his neck.
Had people always looked like this?
"I am fine," Eli said.
He was not. He knew it. But the words came out anyway.
Carrow walked closer, hands open. "You have severe injuries. Please lie down."
Injuries. Yes. That made sense.
Eli shook his head.
Bad idea.
The room tilted again. Dark spots filled the edges of his vision.
"I remember the attack," he said. "Pirates. Something hit my room."
Carrow studied him. "Do you remember anything after that?"
Images flashed in Eli's mind.
Dark hallways.
Heat.
Moving without walking.
A scream that stopped suddenly.
He forced the images away.
"No," he said. "I must have passed out."
Carrow did not look fully convinced. "We found you in Cargo Spine C. You were hanging from the ceiling."
"In what?" Eli asked before he could stop himself.
The officer hesitated. "Wires. Debris."
Hanging.
Cold spread down Eli's back.
"Sir," Carrow continued, "an unknown creature is on board. It killed many pirates before we could engage."
Eli's heart raced.
"We hoped you might have seen it."
More images pushed at his mind. Claws. Movement. The smell of metal.
He kept his face blank.
"I remember being dragged," he said. "Something grabbed me. I could not see it."
That felt true.
Carrow watched him for a long time.
Then he nodded. "Understood."
Relief loosened Eli's chest.
Then the hunger came back, worse than before.
His stomach twisted so hard he bent forward with a choking sound.
Carrow stepped closer. "Medic."
"I am hungry," Eli gasped.
Carrow blinked. "Hungry?"
"Food," Eli said. The word sounded almost wild. "I need food."
A medic looked confused. "He has been unconscious less than twenty hours. Nutrient fluids should be enough."
"Food," Eli repeated. His hands shook.
It was overwhelming.
Carrow made a quick decision. "Bring emergency packs."
A sealed ration pack was placed in Eli's hands.
He tore it open immediately.
Dense nutrient bars filled the pack.
He ate the first one in seconds, barely chewing.
Second.
Third.
Voices spoke around him. He did not listen.
The emptiness demanded more.
Another pack appeared.
He ripped it open and kept eating, crumbs falling as he swallowed fast, breathing hard between bites.
Two full days of rations disappeared.
Slowly, the pain inside him faded to a dull ache.
Eli lowered the empty wrappers, chest rising and falling fast.
Silence filled the room.
Everyone was staring.
Carrow no longer looked calm. He looked careful.
"My lord," he said quietly, "are you certain you are well?"
Eli wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Only now did he realize how he must look. Pale. Shaking. Surrounded by broken restraints and food scraps.
"I do not know," he said.
It was the most honest thing he had said since waking.