Months passed, though it felt like seconds.

  Time here didn’t move normally.

  Each memory bled into the next, a slow reel of borrowed lives. I’d seen through ten different children’s eyes now - each of them caught in the same rhythm of fear, routine, and faint hope.

  Through them, I watched myself.

  They spoke of me like I was something special - the boy who told stories before lights-out, who taught the younger ones numbers and letters with chalk on the floor, who whispered the names of cities above ground as if describing a fairytale.

  For a while, it worked. The laughter returned. The older kids - the ones whose eyes had gone dull - started smiling again. They were taken for tests less and less. Some even dared to dream out loud, to talk about leaving someday.

  It felt like something new had entered this place.

  Something fragile and warm.

  But only Amy noticed the cracks.

  She heard it first - the quiet muttering in my sleep. Words she couldn’t understand. Names of people who didn’t exist. Some nights, she’d wake to see me sitting upright, whispering to the shadows, eyes wide and fixated on figures hiding in the dark privy to only him.

  She saw how I ate less, how my eyes dulled slowly, how my hands shook under the table even when I smiled.

  The others thought I was their hope.

  But Amy saw the truth. The one I didn't want anyone to see.

  It shifted again.

  I was her now.

  The world was quiet except for the hum of distant pipes. She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, the faint light from the hallway throwing long shadows across the walls. I had been taken for tests again, much to Amy's dismay.

  She hugged her knees. The cold from the thin mattress bit through her gown.

  Something felt wrong tonight. The air itself was trembling.

  Then came the sound.

  Running. Heavy boots, echoing through the corridor.

  Before she could move, her cell door burst open. Two Nameless Ones rushed in, their faces blurring into impossible shapes. One grabbed her arm, the other yanked her by the collar. She tried to scream but the sound stuck in her throat.

  They pulled her into the corridor, half-dragging, half-carrying her. Her bare feet scraped against the wet stone as she stumbled to keep up.

  The noise grew louder the deeper they went - distant crashes that shook the walls, muffled screams that weren’t quite human.

  She tried to look back, calling out for someone, anyone, but a gloved hand covered her mouth.

  They turned a corner.

  And suddenly, everything changed.

  The old stone halls gave way to something new. Smooth white walls. Bright, sterile lights that burned her eyes. The air smelled of metal and cleaning agents. The sound of machinery filled the corridor - the hum of generators, the hiss of pressurized air.

  The Nameless Ones moved faster now, their boots clattering on the white floor. Amy’s heart pounded as the banging grew louder - rhythmic, like something striking metal again and again.

  When they stopped, it was before a massive door rimmed with frost. The figures typed something on a panel and the lock hissed open.

  Inside was chaos.

  Dozens of Nameless Ones scurried about, pulling levers, scribbling notes, shouting to one another in warped, unintelligible voices. The air shimmered from the heat of machinery, and in the center of the room stood a figure unlike the rest.

  He was tall, cloaked in black, but his face wasn’t distorted like the others. It was hidden - not missing. Controlled. Human.

  He stood before a massive pane of blackened glass, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as the others scrambled around him.

  Then came the banging again - louder now, directly from behind the glass. Amy flinched as cracks spidered through its surface.

  The man turned at the sound. “Bring her here,” he said simply.

  The Nameless Ones obeyed without hesitation.

  Amy was pushed forward, stumbling. The man caught her easily, one arm around her throat as he lifted her against his chest, the other pulling a pistol from his belt.

  He pressed it to the side of her head.

  Her heart froze.

  “Deactivate the dark glass,” he said, his voice sharp. “And turn on the comms.”

  One of the Nameless Ones obeyed, pressing a sequence of buttons.

  The glass flickered - its black sheen fading to transparency.

  Amy gasped.

  On the other side was a room drenched in shadow.

  And in the center of it - Damian.

  Or what used to be him.

  He knelt on the floor, body wrapped in black tendrils that writhed like living things. His head hang low as he clutched at his scalp, mouth open in a silent scream. The air around him shimmered and bent. Shadow poured from his skin like smoke.

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  He wasn’t breathing.

  He wasn’t human.

  The man holding Amy smiled faintly. “Look closely, child. Tonight, we lay witness to the birth of something truly extraordinary.”

  Damian’s body convulsed as he threw his head back, his right eye weeping black tears. The shadows twisted and struck at the walls, slamming into the glass with deafening force. Every impact made Amy flinch.

  “Microphone on,” the man said.

  A crackle filled the room. Then his voice boomed from hidden speakers.

  “Damian.”

  The thing behind the glass froze. Its head turned toward them.

  For the first time, Damian saw them.

  Amy could see his face clearly now - or what was left of it. His right eye was no longer an eye at all, but a swirling pit of blackness that bled through the whites and veins. His skin pulsed with shadow.

  He screamed - a sound not made for human throats - and a tentacle of darkness lashed toward them.

  Amy shrieked and the man didn’t even flinch.

  The window seemed to lighten as the man pressed the cold pistol harshly against Amy's head.

  “Stop,” he said coldly. “Or she dies.”

  Damian froze.

  The tendrils stopped mid-motion, mere inches away from the glass, twitching like a wounded animals.

  Slowly, painfully, the shadows receded. His skin lightened. The black from his eye drained, replaced by the weary brown she remembered.

  Then, at last, a tear slipped from his left eye - the only thing still human.

  He crumpled on the ground, as if his strings had been cut.

  The man exhaled, as though pleased. Then, without warning, he threw Amy aside like discarded cloth. She hit the floor hard, vision blurring.

  “Take her back,” he said.

  The Nameless Ones obeyed, lifting her by the arms.

  As they dragged her toward the exit, she heard muffled voices - one of them belonging to the cloaked man.

  The words were clearer than they should have been.

  “It seems,” he said, “the experiment is complete.”

  ---

  Not much happened after that.

  Amy was taken back to her room. She didn’t say a word.

  She curled into her thin blanket and cried into the sheets until her voice broke. The sound of it - soft, small, steady - echoed against the stone. Even the walls seemed to listen.

  It went on for hours.

  When it finally stopped, she lay there in silence, eyes open, body trembling from exhaustion. Just as sleep was beginning to drag her under-

  The first explosion hit.

  The ground trembled. Dust rained from the ceiling. The air itself seemed to vibrate.

  Another blast followed, then another. Distant alarms wailed - a harsh metallic shriek, rising and falling in a rhythm of panic.

  She sat up, clutching her blanket.

  The children were awake now. Voices carried through the hallways - some fearful, others hopeful. Hope. That maybe the outside world had finally found them. That maybe someone was here to save them.

  Amy stumbled out of bed, dragging it across the stone floor until it scraped against the door. She climbed onto it, peering through the small barred window at the top.

  The corridor beyond was chaos - flickering lights, shouting, the smell of smoke seeping in. Faint rushed footsteps could be heard.

  She pressed her face to the bars. Children from other cells did the same.

  “They found us,” one whispered to themselves, half in disbelief. “We’re going home.”

  Amy could only look around, searching for something. I could feel her hesitation - her worry for me. For Damian.

  The explosions grew louder, closer. The world shook. Then-

  Silence.

  For a moment, all that remained was the faint hiss of the lights overhead.

  Then the crying started. Joy this time. Some of the kids were laughing, others praying.

  Amy didn’t move. She stared down the corridor, heart hammering.

  Something rumbled. Low. Deep.

  “What’s that?” someone called from down the hall.

  The answer came in light.

  A rush of white-orange fire tore through the corridor like a living thing.

  Amy barely had time to blink.

  The vision shattered in blinding heat - flames blooming, screams cut short, the world swallowed whole.

  And I knew that fire.

  All too well.

  When sight returned, I was still her.

  The cell door was gone. The floor blackened and cracked, air thick with smoke and ash. Her arm - what was left of it - lay in front of her face, skin scorched, fingers twisted. She didn’t scream. Couldn’t. Only tears rolled silently down her cheeks, evaporating as they fell.

  Footsteps echoed down the hall. Steady. Calm.

  From the haze emerged three figures.

  Black coats. Masks of dark silvered metal.

  Inquisitors.

  The one in front stopped, looking into her cell. Another followed close behind, carrying something in their arms - a body.

  Mine.

  Unscorched. Motionless. My eyes closed as if in a deep sleep.

  Amy’s eyes widened, filling with tears again.

  The leftmost Inquisitor spoke, masculine voice muffled through a low mechanical rasp.

  “No other survivors.”

  The one carrying my body nodded lightly in agreement. This time, a feminine voice echoed through the mechanical voice box of the mask.

  "We must leave, before the church and it's dogs come to salvage whats left."

  The leader stepped inside, scanning the room with detached precision. His boots left prints in the soot.

  “The cardinal and I have already reached an agreement. As far as he knows, the boy is clean and untainted.” he said quietly.

  He crouched beside something to Amy's right. A small, leather-bound book - completely unaffected by the fire. My diary.

  "Not even Arthur's inferno could touch it." He turned the diary over in his hands. "The boy's shadows... they protected it. Even while he was unconscious."

  As they turned to leave, Amy tried to move. Her fingers twitched.

  She reached out. Just barely.

  A broken whisper escaped her throat.

  “Da…m…i...”

  The lead Inquisitor turned. The metal of his mask caught the red glow of the embers.

  “So his name was Damian?” he said.

  Amy tried to speak again. Her lips moved - no sound came. Only a faint exhale, barely a whisper. But I understood what she was trying to say.

  Damy... be okay...

  The cold gaze of the mask looked at Amy's charred body - it's emotions unclear. Then, with a slow motion, he drew a revolver from inside his coat.

  “The Cardinal won’t let you rest that easily. I pity you, poor child.” he said softly.

  He cocked the revolver.

  “So for now-”

  He aimed it.

  "Sleep."

  Her last thought wasn't fear. Just a quiet hope that wherever would happen, he'd be safe.

  The gun went off.

  And the world went black.

  ---

  When sight returned, it wasn't darkness anymore.

  It was light. Cold, white, merciless light.

  She had no body. No arms, no legs - just sight. A mechanical hum surrounded her, and when she tried to move, the world tilted. She was... floating. Trapped inside something small and metallic.

  The Cardinal's face loomed impossibly large before her, smiling down.

  "Though you were children infected by damnation," he said, his voice warm, "you may yet serve the Almighty. Redemption is not beyond your reach."

  Redemption.

  Amy’s voice echoed in my skull, distant, trembling.

  Is there… redemption?

  The Cardinal’s smile widened. “The Almighty loves you,” he said gently. “Through service, you can be saved. Your infection no longer needs to be a disease, but a gift. Don't you see, my sweet child?”

  She repeated his words like a prayer, like a trance.

  And then I saw them.

  Floating behind him - mechanical orbs. Each one carrying an eye.

  Real, human eyes.

  He looked Amy with pride, extending his arms to show his creations.

  “I have saved fifteen of your brothers and sisters from the veil’s corruption,” he said. “Will you join them, little one? Will you join them in the warmth of the Almighty's embrace, so that you may be saved through servitude?”

  The metal orbs whirred. One of the orbs descended toward her face, humming softly as it stared onto her.

  Amy’s thoughts trembled, desperate.

  I want to be saved.

  I want to loved.

  My brothers-! My sisters-!

  The Cardinal reached out, lifting Amy's now tiny body into his palm. His smile seemed sweet, full of love and pride.

  But I found it revolting.

  “I love you, my dear child.” he whispered.

  Amy blinked.

  And the world collapsed.