The mountains north of Harrow City were jagged scars wrapped in fog. Miles from any signal tower, buried behind decommissioned mining roads, sat a forgotten facility coded as "Lazarus Compound."
To the world, it didn't exist.
But Selene and Calder weren't looking for permission.
They hiked the final half-mile in silence, the cold biting through their gear. Calder carried the field pack; Selene carried the plan. It was simple: get in, copy the drives, get out. No kills unless necessary.
But even before they reached the gate, something felt… wrong.
The compound wasn't guarded—at least, not visibly. No patrols, no drones. Just a single floodlight over a steel-reinforced entry point, and a biometric scanner caked with frost.
Selene examined the lock. "This model uses dual authorization—keycard and retinal."
Calder pulled out a slim drive. "Not when you know who built the back door."
He inserted the drive, and after ten seconds, the light above the lock flickered green.
The door opened with a hiss.
They stepped into a hallway that smelled like bleach and burnt wires.
The deeper they moved, the worse it got—evidence of rushed evacuation. Broken vials. Scattered notes. Dried blood on the walls, too old to track.
"This isn't a lab," Calder muttered. "It's a grave."
They reached the central server room. Selene plugged in Aria's black dagger-shaped drive and watched the data flow. Dozens of folders began copying—files tagged with terms like Reconstruction, Neurolace Alpha, Subject N, Revivification Protocol.
Selene opened one. Her hand froze.
A photo loaded.
It was a girl. Seventeen. Dark curls. Big eyes.
Her sister.
Lina Vale.
Alive.
Or… at least she had been.
"Selene?" Calder's voice broke the silence.
She didn't move.
Her eyes flicked across the report.
SUBJECT: N.V. – Status: Technically Alive
Condition: Intermittent Lucidity / Occasional Hostility / Dependency on Neural Modulators
Project Notes: Complete memory regression unsuccessful. Former identifiers persist. Risk of relapse.
Selene backed away, her pulse pounding.
"They didn't kill her," she whispered. "They used her."
Her sister had been the youngest candidate in the Orchid Project. When Selene had escaped, she'd assumed Lina had died in the fire.
She was wrong.
They'd turned her into something else.
Suddenly, alarms shrieked. Red lights strobed. Doors slammed shut one by one.
"Exit protocol initiated," Calder growled. "We're not alone."
"Someone tripped the breach sensor," Selene said. "Or… something."
They sprinted down the corridor. Behind them, doors slammed. A distant hiss echoed—metal against tile. Something moved in the dark.
"Movement in Sector 4," Calder snapped, pulling his pistol. "That's not security. That's a hunter drone or—"
Selene stopped. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"No. It's not a drone."
A figure stepped into the flickering hallway light. Barefoot. Thin. Clad in a hospital gown. Tubes trailing from her arms.
Eyes wild. Lost.
"Lina?"
The girl tilted her head.
Then screamed.
High-pitched. Animal. Broken.
The lights exploded. Glass shattered. Calder fired instinctively—three rounds into the air—but the girl vanished like a mirage.
Selene didn't chase her.
She dropped to her knees.
"They've turned her into a weapon."