Emily spent the next several minutes trapped in her own thoughts, replaying over and over the words spoken by the âhuman-lookingâ anomaly. She didnât know how to respond, partly because her human mind tried, almost by instinct, to impose logic and meaning on something that was clearly illogical by nature.
The anomaly, in turn, offered little further clarification about what it truly meant when it claimed that this was not its real form. No explanation, no concrete hint, just a statement cast into the air like a riddle.
And that was exactly what unsettled Emily. The lack of answers didnât push her away; on the contrary, it awakened an uncomfortable curiosity. She found herself studying every detail of the anomaly, every movement, every silence, trying to uncover some kind of clue. Emily was curious... no, intensely curious.
What, after all, was this beingâs true form like? It had said that a human would go insane from looking at it directly, but why? Was it because their real bodies contained too much information, impossible patterns that the limited human mind couldnât process without breaking apart?
Or was there some kind of anomalous force, an invisible presence, acting like a veil, preventing their authentic forms from being revealed? So many questions, no answers. The thoughts piled up like a constant buzzing in her head, and Emily felt her own sanity slowly slipping away, eroded by curiosity.
And she wasnât the only one. Even Laura kept casting casual sideways glances at the anomaly. Her expression made her growing curiosity obvious; her fingers clenched the edge of the table as if trying to anchor her to reality while her mind wandered. And it wasnât just Laura.
Nearly all the scientists in the room wore the same look, slightly raised brows, focused eyes, showing not even a trace of the caution they had displayed before. It seemed as though the fear they had felt moments earlier in the presence of the anomaly had completely vanished.
Minor spoiler: it hadnât vanished at all. Curiosity was simply speaking louder, muffling the natural instinct for self-preservation. Watching the scene, Emily once again had to agree with the words Victor used to describe the organizationâs scientists:
âCrazy bastards with no sense of self-preservationâ It was, without a doubt, an insult, but ironically, it couldnât have been closer to the truth. Emily knew that better than anyone.
Scientists, in general, tended to worry less about their own safety when compared to ânormalâ people, and that trait became even more evident when working directly with anomalies. In the face of the unknown, the instinct for self-preservation often gave way to something stronger: the drive to discover. The desire to understand spoke louder than fear.
What were those anomalies, after all? Where had they come from? Why could they do what they did, violating laws that were supposed to be immutable? To Emily, every risk was also an unanswered question, and every question, a temptation she simply couldnât ignore.
Emily and Laura, like every other scientist there, longed to satisfy that doubt. Call it greed if you want, none of them would mind, because it wouldnât be far from the truth.
Lost in her own thoughts, Emily let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh. Her fingers tapped softly against the cold surface of the table in a restrained rhythm while her gaze remained fixed on the screens in front of her, displaying in real time the current status of the deployed team.
It was an aerial view, apparently coming directly from the
, as if the world were being seen through its own eyes, or at least, that was how the angelic-looking anomaly described its perception.
Emily had to admit it: that mission was impossible for ordinary humans to complete. Considering everything they had faced up to that point, if the
hadnât been at their side, they would probably all have been dead before even reaching the halfway point of the operation.
Ironically, upper command had opposed its deployment. Their arguments? Honestly, nothing worth recording, weak, illogical, and easily refuted. That was why Emily had little trouble changing their minds.
Even so, the more they observed, the more Emily and the others realized how unprepared they were. Their supplies had practically run out; only a few crushed rations remained, kept as last-resort provisions. As for water, it had run out shortly before they reached that devastated land, wherever that place truly was.
With no alternative, they had to drink lava. The scene was one of the most chilling Emily had ever witnessed. The incandescent glow of the liquid, the metallic smell in the air, and the heavy silence that settled over everything made it all the more disturbing.
Not just her, everyone present showed discomfort, some looking away, others clenching their teeth as they swallowed. Still, despite the horror, there was also a certain sense of relief: no one seemed to have been hurt, and somehow everyone was still on their feet.
It seemed to her like a good substitute for water, an interesting idea, in her opinion, although Emily herself wasnât sure she could put it into practice if she were in the place of any of those anomaly response team members.
While she was drifting off, lost in her own thoughts, a languid voice came up very close, almost brushing her ear: âHeeey...â the sound drawled in a lightly teasing tone: âWhat are you thinking about that has you so focused?â
Emily simply ignored the words, letting her mind wander elsewhere, as if she could erase the sound still ringing in her ears. She tried to forget that those words had come from the mouth of someone who shouldnât even be there. Still, pretending she hadnât heard a thing, she remained silent.
But the voice didnât give up. âGeez!â it exclaimed, in a tone that was strangely annoyed and, at the same time, almost cute: âYouâre going to ignore me again? Youâre mean, sis!â she added with exaggerated conviction, as if that accusation were the most obvious thing in the world.
Emilyâs eyebrow twitched at those words. The fingers that had been idly tapping on the table stopped at once. With a slow, controlled motion, she turned her gaze toward the voice.
A familiar face entered her field of view. The personâs expression carried a hint of mockery, sharpened by the crooked smile forming at the corner of her lips, as if she were enjoying the situation.
Emily held his gaze for a moment, her lips slightly parted as if weighing every word. When she finally spoke, her voice was low but firm: âHow many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?â
The girl, noticing Emilyâs attentive gaze fixed on her, simply shrugged as if it didnât matter in the slightest. A languidly provocative smile curved her lips.
âMm-hmm...â she hummed, tilting her head slightly, strands of hair sliding over her shoulder as a teasing glint sparkled in her eyes: âI donât want toâ
She paused briefly, savoring the other girlâs reaction, then went on, her smile opening naturally, almost amused: âWhat can I do if you only pay attention to me when I call you that?â
She stepped a little closer, her voice low, carrying a hint of restrained mischief: âBesides... why would I stop? Iâm not lying, am I?â
Emilyâs eyes narrowed briefly at the reply. Then she let out an indifferent sigh, looked away, and began to ignore the otherâs presence, as if the matter were already settled.
Even so, her last words lingered in the air, edged with cutting disinterest: âHas anyone ever told you that youâre a real pain to deal with?â Emily asked, not even bothering to look at her.
The figure smiled, and a short laugh slipped from her lips, low and almost imperceptible: âMore than you can imagineâ she replied, her eyes glinting in a strange way, as if that question, for some reason, pleased her especially.
Emily sighed, running a hand through her hair in a weary gesture. She truly couldnât understand where all that energy, or that insistence, came from. Her voice came out firm, but heavy with exhaustion: âHow many times do I have to tell you? Youâre not my sister. Youâre not Ellie... Even if you have her appearance, her mannerisms, everything else. Iâm not going to believe something that ridiculous just because an angelic-looking anomaly with a creator-of-life mother complex decided to tell me otherwiseâ
Of course, that didnât mean Emily disbelieved the words of the angelic-looking anomaly. On the contrary: after everything it had already demonstrated, its powers, its presence, and the events that had unfolded after its arrival, it had become impossible for Emily to say, with any certainty, that the anomaly was lying.
Watching Emilyâs indifferent expression, the figure set her bare feet on the floor and moved forward slowly until she stopped in front of her. Her posture was strangely upright, her expression serious and resolute, perhaps the first time Emily had ever seen her that way.
For a brief moment, their eyes met in silence, as if the air between them had grown heavier. Then Emilyâs lips moved: âSo?â
The figure merely stared at Emily with an intense gaze. For a moment, the silence seemed to stretch between them. Then the figure spoke: âYouâve become a coward, sisterâ
The tone was dry, and the completely serious face contrasted almost cruelly with the playful manner the figure had shown seconds earlier. The words struck Emily like a sudden chill, as if they awakened an old, uncomfortable memory: âYou used to be more... adventurous. Braver.â
The figure held her gaze for several long seconds without blinking, as if assessing her from the inside: âBut now... youâre dull. And disappointingâ
After saying that, the figure simply turned away, giving her back to Emily. Still stunned, Emily clenched her teeth, her throat burning with everything she wanted to shout.
The words were already piling up in her mouth when, before she could release them, a loud, sudden noise burst from the monitors, crackling through the room and drawing everyoneâs attention.
When Emily turned her eyes back, she realized the team members sent on the mission had reached some kind of rocky ravine, completely surrounded by jagged stone walls, leaving only a single visible passage, if it could even really be called a passage.
The ground was narrow, covered in rock fragments, and the air felt heavier inside. And... when exactly had they arrived there? Emily had been so absorbed in her own thoughts that she hadnât even noticed.
âMmm...â murmured the angelic-looking anomaly, a playful smile dancing on its lips, as if watching something curious. Its eyes glinted for a moment before it added, in an indifferent tone: âThat could be a problem. I was hoping theyâd make it through without alerting Scyrrath... but it looks like that wasnât possibleâ
Emily had many questions echoing in her mind, but one stood out above all the others: after all, who, or what, the hell was Scyrrath?