The moment my muscles obeyed me again, I collapsed forward onto my hands.
The floor was cold. Too clean. Too smooth. Like everything in this place, it felt artificial—fabricated hope layered over mechanical cruelty.
I pulled myself upright and looked around. The other kids were stirring too. Some were crying. Some just sat, eyes glazed, broken long before arriving here. Others looked around like animals caught in a new trap, studying the walls for weakness.
Nobody talked. Nobody dared to.
I stayed still for a moment, trying to calm my breathing. The dream still haunted me—those eyes, those hands tearing me apart. I could still feel the phantom sensation of my limbs being pulled in different directions, the unbearable pressure in my joints.
Was it just a nightmare?
No.
It felt too real. Like something buried deep inside me had awakened. Something ancient. Something watching.
A sharp buzz cracked through the silence, and a section of the wall dissolved into a doorway. Two armored guards stepped in, their faces hidden behind mirrored visors.
One of them spoke in a flat, robotic tone.
"Line up. You are to be biologically catalogued and physically assessed."
Some kids obeyed immediately. Others hesitated.
I stood. My legs trembled, but I moved. I had no idea where I was going—but I knew I had to keep walking. I wasn't going to die here. Not without understanding what this place truly was.
We were brought into a new chamber—round, sterile, and filled with glowing white tubes lining both sides. One by one, we were stripped again, scanned, measured, injected with fluids, and recorded. Machines buzzed. Drones clicked and floated around, collecting data.
None of the guards spoke. None of the machines offered comfort.
But something in me had shifted.
As they pressed cold instruments into my skin and pierced me with fine needles, I felt myself hardening. Not just my body—my will. Whatever innocence I had left was being carved out of me, scraped clean.
When it was over, they handed each of us a white bodysuit—tight and synthetic, marked with glowing threads that pulsed faintly like veins. I watched as kids pulled them on, some with wonder, some with hesitation.
Then I noticed it: every suit had a distinct color woven into its core. Not splashed across it, but running like a second skin, glowing beneath the surface—alive. Each child had one.
The girl beside me had red, a fierce, burning line tracing down her spine and wrapping around her chest like a heartbeat on fire. Another boy's suit flared with green, subtle but unmistakable, swirling at his shoulders like living vines.
I looked around.
A voice, automated but smoother than the guards', filled the chamber.
"Mission alignment complete. Suit colors indicate your optimal Prime Drive compatibility."
"Red – Infinite Lust. You burn for passion, hunger, conquest. You'll face trials of desire, control, and temptation."
"Green – Envy. You crave what others have, and that hunger guides your ambition. Your mission feeds on competition and comparison."
"Black – Wrath. The fire of vengeance runs in you. You destroy to survive. You survive to destroy."
"Gold – Greed. Acquisition fuels you. Your mission will test the limit of your want."
"Orange – Gluttony. You consume without end. Food, knowledge, sensation—it will never be enough."
"Blue – Sloth. You resist change. Delay. Doubt. But even stillness has power in the right hands."
"White – Pride. The belief in your superiority will be your strength—or your downfall. You lead or break."
The voice faded.
I looked down at my own suit.
It had no color.
Not white like the others—no, not even close. It was pale, dull, like the life had been drained from it. Not glowing. Not marked. Just... empty.
I felt the weight of it settle on me. Like I'd been skipped. Like I didn't belong to any path.
But I knew better.
This wasn't a mistake. It wasn't a flaw in the system.
It was a message.
And I wasn't ready to understand it yet.
The others exchanged glances, some with curiosity, some with fear, as they noticed my suit. A few stepped away. Some whispered.
I kept my gaze forward.
I didn't need a color to tell me who I was.
Not anymore.