My heart hammers like war drums.
I step forward—and a siren blasts overhead.
They know.
I see movement down the corridor. Figures turning. Faces snapping toward me.
Time slows.
I draw my weapon.
And I roar.
CHAPTER 35
JILLIAN
They call it a containment chamber.
But it’s not. Not really.
It’s a cage made of lies and lullabies. Of rot pretending to be beauty.
They don't lock me in with steel or glass. No, that would’ve been too merciful—too human. This thing… this place they’ve made… itgrows.
The walls aren’t walls. They’re living. Shimmering. Threaded with crystal and pulsating spore-veins that thrum like veins under translucent skin. The air smells sweet. Rotten. Like overripe fruit gone sticky with time.
It’s a throne room, and I’m its prisoner.
And the fungus? It sings.
Soft. Constant. A lullaby of madness. The spore-song is stronger here—closer to its source. No words, just… suggestion. Like it’s whispering right inside my skull, promising everything I never asked for. Peace. Belonging. An end to choices.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood.
It grounds me for a second.
Then Ciampa steps into the chamber—and the sound almost wins.
He doesn’t walk anymore.
Heglides.
His feet are bare, skin split with lines of luminous fungus. His face is half gone, eaten away or… absorbed. It doesn’t matter. The eyes that remain are clear. Too clear. Too calm. And around his neck, the crystal has grown into something resembling a collar—ornamental, almost regal.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks.
I don’t answer.
He walks in slow circles around me, hands folded like he’s conducting a sermon.
“You’re fighting so hard, Jillian. And for what? Fear? Individuality?” He smiles. “Soon, you’ll join us. You’ll see howbeautifulit all is.”
I shake my head. “You’re insane.”
“No,” he says softly. “I’mfree. We all are.”
Behind him, I see Darwin standing silent at the edge of the room. Eyes blank. Hands clasped.
