Classification: ZODIAC LEVEL EYES ONLY
Principal Investigator: Dr. Hal Crane
Supervising Authority: Director Voss, Preemptive Defense Division
“Magnus,” I breathe. “You need to see this.”
He moves behind me, close enough that I can feel his solid presence, and reads over my shoulder as I scroll through the files.
The project outline is horrifying in its clinical detachment. Goal: Create multi-form shifters by grafting magical neural pathways from different species. Method: Forced pathway fusion using synthetic toxins to break down natural shifting barriers. Subjects held in partial transformation while new pathways are literally carved into their nervous systems.
“This is...” I pause, understanding hitting me like a physical blow. “This is Elena’s research. Perverted, weaponized, but based on her discoveries about shifter biology and magical DNA.”
“Elena would never?—”
“No, she wouldn’t. But Voss wanted her to. When she refused to weaponize her research, when she chose Kael and integration instead...” I scroll through more files, the picture becoming clearer. “Crane took her principles and twisted them. Where Elena sought to understand and heal natural bonds, Crane forces unnatural combinations.”
The methodology sections make me physically ill. Detailed descriptions of subjects screaming as their bodies are forced to accept foreign shifting patterns. Neural pathway scarring that causes permanent agony. The gradual degradation of cognitive function as the stolen forms fight for dominance.
“Volunteer test subjects,” Magnus reads, voice dark with disgust. “They’re calling kidnapped traders volunteers.”
I dig deeper into the files, finding progress reports, failed experiments, and then?—
My vision triggers without warning.
Dr. Crane’s face fills my mind—gaunt, fevered, patches of fur and scales visible where he’s experimented on himself. His body is breaking down, the forced transformations destroying him from within. He needs stabilization. He needs someone who can knit the warring pathways together.
“A healer,” he mutters to himself in the vision, studying brain scans that look familiar. “Storm-touched. Someone who understands integration at the cellular level. The Starling girl. She’s worked with the hybrid. She knows how to merge incompatible systems.”
My own face appears on his screen—a surveillance photo from the aerie clinic. He’s been watching. Planning.
Then the vision shifts to the central death scene—Magnus fighting Broken while Crane watches from shadows, directing them. But now I understand. Crane doesn’t just want Magnus dead. He wants me alive. Wants my abilities to stabilize his deteriorating chimera form.
Magnus falls protecting me not from random violence, but from targeted capture?—
I drop back against the console, gasping. The keyboard clatters to the floor as my hands shake violently. Magnus catches me before I fall, pulling me against his chest, his arms strong and safe around me.
“What did you see?” His voice rumbles through his chest where my ear presses against him.
“He wants me,” I manage between shaky breaths. “Crane. He’s been experimenting on himself, but it’s killing him. He needs a healer who understands integration. He’s been watching me, knows about my work with Elena.” I pull back enough to look up at him. “This was never about random attacks. It’s targeted. He wants me specifically.”
Magnus’s eyes blaze with protective fury. “He won’t get you.”
“In my vision, you die trying to stop him.”
“Then I die.” His voice is matter-of-fact, as if discussing the weather. “But he still won’t get you.”
“How can you be so calm about your own death?”
“Look at me,” Magnus says, and when I do, his eyes are burning with something that makes my heart race. “If I have to choose between a long life without you and a short one protecting you, that’s no choice at all. You’re—” He pauses, jaw working like he’s fighting words that want to escape. “You’re everything, Lyra. Don’t you understand that yet?”
The air between us crackles with tension. We’re inches apart, his hands still on my arms from catching me, my hands flat against his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, fast and strong, matching the rhythm of my own.
“Magnus,” I whisper, not sure if it’s warning or invitation.
He leans closer, and for a moment I think he’s going to kiss me. Every cell in my body wants him to, magic and desire twining together until I can’t separate them. His hand movesto cup my cheek, thumb brushing across my cheekbone with devastating gentleness.
“When this is over,” he says, voice rough with promise, “when you’re safe and that monster can’t hurt anyone else, we’re going to talk about what this is between us. About what you mean to me. About why my magic sings for you and my leopard has decided you’re ours.”
