YORIKA
Iwake in my quarters with every nerve ending on fire.
Not pain, something else. Something that makes my skin hypersensitive and my body throb in places I didn't know could ache. When I shift on the bed, I feel it: warmth pulsing deep inside me, foreign but not unwelcome. His mark. His claim.
The memories crash back. The wall. The shadow tendrils. The way I begged.
"Fuck."
I sit up and catch my reflection in the dark mirror. Silver-black marks trace patterns across my skin where the shadow tendrils held me. They're beautiful in a way that makes me angry, delicate as lace but clearly stating ownership. When I touch one, it pulses with warmth that shoots straight between my legs.
But it's what I can't see that disturbs me most. I can feel his essence settling into my bones, a permanent part of my marrow now. My scent has changed. When I move, I catch traces of something otherworldly on my skin, in my sweat. Not just on me but from me, seeping through my pores.
Anyone who gets close will know exactly what happened. What I let happen.
What I begged for.
My body feels satisfied in a way it never has before, even as my mind rages at the loss of control. I dress quickly, choosing clothes that cover most of the visible marks. The fabric against my sensitized skin is almost too much, but I force myself to ignore it.
The door opens easily. No guard. No Mikaere waiting. Strange, but I'm not questioning good fortune.
I need information. Need to understand what he's done to me, what these marks mean. The library might have answers, but Päivi will be there, and I can't face her knowing questions right now.
Then I remember, the hidden chamber. The one he was so desperate to keep me from.
My feet carry me through the twisting corridors without conscious thought. The bond pulls me forward, stronger now. I can feel Nezavek somewhere in the realm, but the sensation is muted, distracted. Perfect.
The hidden entrance is exactly where I remember. The ward shimmers in the air, barely visible but tangible. Last night he said it would scatter me across seventeen dimensions. But last night, I didn't have his mark burning inside me like a brand.
I press my palm against the ward.
The marks on my skin flare with heat, and the ward... recognizes me. It dissolves like smoke, the door opening silently. His protections think I'm part of him now.
The research chamber beyond makes my breath catch.
Papers cover every surface, anatomical drawings, maps with red marks, lists of names and dates. Some pages are old, edges yellowed and brittle. Others are newer. Two different handwriting styles appear throughout. One elegant and flowing. I recognize it from the Collector's journal. The other is angular, sharp, unfamiliar.
My hands shake as I pick up the nearest page. It's a detailed drawing of the crystallization process, showing how flesh transforms to living glass while preserving consciousness. The elegant script notes: "Temperature gradient critical for awareness preservation."
The angular writing appears in the margin: "Reversal attempted at 72% crystallization. Failed. Subject lost."
Another note below, same angular hand: "Void energy disrupts process but causes cellular collapse."
I find more pages. Chemical formulas with corrections, crossed-out calculations, failed experiment notes. The angular script appears frustrated, desperate: "Forty-third attempt. No reversal achieved. Running out of time."
But then other pages confuse me. Notes about "optimization" and "enhancement." Lists of physical traits. Are these attempts to understand the process, or improve it? The dates are scattered across centuries. I can't tell what came first, what came after.
I find a ledger, names, dates, locations. All female. All young. My hands tremble as I scan the list, looking for.
There. Melara Korren. Factory District. Three years ago.
But it's the notations that make bile rise in my throat.
In the elegant script: "Acquired. Exceptional specimen. Artist's temperament ideal for prolonged awareness."
Below it, in the angular writing: "Intervention attempted. Too late. Crystallization at 67% when discovered."
No other notes about her. Just those two lines.
