Chapter 1 ~ BLACK BEGINNING

“I heard there isn’t much of his life left,” a girl’s voice drifted through the sterile gloom of the laboratory. It was Twinsanity, her tone laced with a heavy, trembling concern. “Can’t he be sustained longer?”

“I am afraid Ahon doesn’t have that luxury. What can I say?” The second voice belonged to Ophyria. It was smooth, chillingly calm, and carried a wicked, knowing smirk in its cadence. “He doesn’t have the body, nor the soul, nor the strain to sustain himself. At least he will die knowing he was loved.”

On the cold operating slab, Ahon lay pinned beneath a web of translucent pipes and blood-wires. The fluids pumped rhythmically into his veins, a chilling, invasive tide.

Ophyria leaned over him, her pale purple hair brushing against his cheek. Her blue lipstick starkly contrasted with her ghostly skin, and around her neck hung a strange, metallic necklace that emitted a faint, high-pitched screech—a sound that burrowed into Ahon’s skull, feeling less like jewelry and more like a leash binding him to her.

“Just count to six,” she whispered softly, her hand resting on his chest. “Six breaths, and it will be over.”

Ahon stared up at the ceiling. Okay. It’s time. He dragged the air into his failing lungs. I made the best of it. I have no complaints. I am loved. I was cherished.

The daylight lanterns died all at once. The room plunged into absolute darkness, as if the sun itself had turned hostile, leaving only the sickly, bioluminescent glow of the sterilized containment cylinders. From within the glass vats, the ambient strains and parasites began to twitch. They emitted a low, ringing hum, calling out to him, crying out as if begging to survive together in a desperate, symbiotic call.

ONE.He caught his breath. He waited for the end, but it did not come. Instead, an unbearable, tearing pain erupted in his chest. The pipes and wires twitched violently against his skin, rattling as if they were crying for him, praying he would finally receive his long-awaited death.

TWO. THREE.The agony deepened, anchoring into his heart.

FOUR. FIVE.He let the breath shudder out of his lips. Finally. I have waited for you. Just end it how it’s supposed to. I never got a choice, did I? Ahon closed his eyes.

SIX.He exhaled. The room fell into a heavy, stretching lull. He stayed perfectly quiet for a long time. His eyelids twitched. His mouth went dry. He was still breathing.

“SEVEN,” Ahon choked out. His voice cracked in the dark. He pushed himself up against the slackened restraints, his lungs heaving. “Seven!” he repeated aggressively.

He stared into the pitch black. “Why? Why won’t you come to me? What have I done? I have nothing, not even my own body, then why? Why deny me the root of the end? Death!” he screamed, his voice tearing at his throat.

The lights flared back to a blinding brilliance. Ophyria walked back into his field of vision.

“Ophyria,” Ahon panted, staring at her begrudgingly. “Why am I alive? I didn’t die... even though you and Amon told me I would. What happened?”

“You won’t die, Ahon. How could I let that happen?” Ophyria smiled—a warm, terrifyingly cold expression that made him jerk instinctively. There was no arguing with that smile. “You are precious to me, for I found something in you that I made entirely. You, of all things.”

She reached down, pulling the syringes and heavy pipes from his flesh with wet, sucking clicks. Behind her, the glowing medical monitor locked into a solid readout:

INFESTATION COMPLETED. NIRVANA PARASITE: STRANDED.

“Ahon, why don’t you go walk outside?” Ophyria suggested cheerfully. “Take in the sun, would you? I heard there is going to be an eclipse. Why don’t you go see it?”

“I don’t understand you, Ophyria,” Ahon said, clutching his chest where the new, foreign heartbeat thumped heavily. “Every time I am about to die... I live.”

“Then count your blessings, my son, because your end is still not nigh.”

“What blessing are you talking about?” Ahon snapped angrily.

“You will know in time. Now go.”

He made his way out of that damned room. A room of life that felt entirely like a forsaken death.

Ahon walked the high corridors of the Grand Spine, leaning heavily against the balcony as he looked out over the hanging gardens of Aphen Raxis. The eclipse was setting in, carving up the sky into a bruised violet.

“Even the brightest things get forsaken sometimes, I guess,” Ahon murmured beneath his breath.

He caught his reflection in the reinforced glass. He looked exhausted, hollowed out. He reached up, his trembling fingers brushing against the clammy skin of his own face. He could feel something moving and twitching in him something .

BUZZ.BUZZ BUZZ

A sharp, electric pulse snapped across his flesh. It wasn’t just a sound; it was a physical shield, as if his own skin was violently revolting against his touch, his mind and body instantly disconnecting. Jagged, dendritic marks—split perfectly between blinding white and pitch black—spider-webbed across half of his body. It was an open rebellion of his own flesh, neither allowing him to truly live nor letting him kill himself.

“There you are.”

Ahon jerked backward, his heart hammering as he recognized her presence.

She stood there, pale pink hair falling unevenly around her face. Twinsanity.

“You look well again,” she said, her dual-pupiled eyes mesmerized by his pale face. “Another favor from the mercy goddess. Really, Ahon, of all the people who have died here, you truly have a way to surpass them. Always coming back, aren’t you?”

Ahon let out a breathless, snide laugh. “Twinsanity. Couldn’t even wait in the room for me, could you? And we call ourselves a family.”

Her eyes widened in a flash of fury. In a blur of motion, she stepped into his guard and shoved him hard against the balcony wall. She was far too close, her breath warm against his jaw.

“I told you, it’s Joah,” she hissed. “My name is Joah. And just because death has eluded you again doesn’t mean I can’t deliver what it missed, Ahon.”

Ahon didn’t blink. He leaned his fragile neck into her grip. “Do it then. Finish it. I dare you, Joah. Try it.”

Joah stared at him. For a second, a flicker of profound, agonizing mercy crossed her face, warring with absolute contempt. What is his point here? she seemed to think. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t help. He couldn’t live. She could end it—but what if he survived again?

She slowly released his collar. “Meet me in the Umb room in a few hours. And if you don’t come, I will drag you. I am not going to kill you, Ahon, you are doing that to yourself. A mercy from me. Don’t be late.”

She turned and vanished down the hall, leaving Ahon to wonder what the difference was between her mercy and her hostility.

He kept walking until he reached the Unwilted Garden.

THE APHEN GARDEN

It was a marvel of the Encalyion Order—a sprawling zone of immortal grass and flowers that refused to rust or die, set against the darkening, apocalyptic sky of the eclipse. How these two things could exist at once was a cruel joke of nature.

“Such a fitting sight for this place,” a woman’s voice rasped. “An eclipse and a never-wilting garden.”

Ahon stopped. A woman stood in the center of the terrace, wrapped in heavy, ceremonial rags.

STRAIN ACTIVATION DETECTED - {TYPE VIRAL} - [RUBIGOS FERRO] -

Ahon collar detected and blared

Where she stood, the immortal garden died. A zone of blight radiated from her heavy boots, rusting the vibrant green grass into a sickly, copper-brown rot. Her stark black hair seemed to rust into a blighted brown at the tips, and her skin carried a bronze, corroded hue. The long sword resting against her shoulder wept with a viral slime of decay.

“You have a question, boy?” the woman asked, turning her head. “You know it’s not good manners to keep staring at a woman like this, especially to a bride.”

“I am not looking at you,” Ahon mocked, his voice flat. “I’m looking at the eclipse. Are you the newest family member I heard about? More like the Bride of Rust. Well, my family does have weird taste, just look at me. I do like death, I just can’t seem to get it.”

The woman frowned, stepping forward. “You shouldn’t look at the eclipse, your eyes will—” She stopped, her weary gaze catching on his pupils. “Your eyes... they are—”

“Don’t bother. Either I am half-blind or I just see enough, it’s something in the middle. But I still can’t die,” Ahon offered a wretched smile.

He took a deliberate step forward, crossing the threshold directly into her zone of blighted, rusted grass.

BUZZ.BUZZ BUZZ

The white dendritic structures flared instantly across his skin, repelling the invisible contagion of her strain.

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “My name is Yachiru. And you should introduce yourself, young man, before presenting yourself to a lady.”

“Oh, I am no young man. I am Ahon. There is nothing young or old about me,” he said, gesturing up at the sky. “Nice sight, isn’t it? First time I’m seeing an eclipse.”

“Yes, I would agree,” Yachiru said softly. “It just shows you that underneath all of that warmth, brightness, and energy, there is something dark and blinding.”

She raised her rusted blade. SLASH. SLASH. She swung it in a devastating arc, shearing the blighted flowers from their stems. Leaving a perfect spot of emptiness in the garden, she sheathed her sword and walked away.

Ahon turned his face back to the sky. Why shouldn’t I look? What are these rules? Because if I look, will it blind me with the truth? Just like you did, my dear Sun. A liar hiding something so dark.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the world, staring into the dying sun didn’t blind him. Instead, his vision sharpened. It was as if the sun was parting what was left of its brightness just for him, offering an energy and warmth he couldn’t explain.

“It’s just us. Are you leaving as well?” Ahon whispered to the sun, his sight clearing as he focused on the brilliant corona ring forming in the sky. He leaned against the balcony, watching Yachiru’s retreating figure. “Well, at least she is pretty.”

The heavy, sterile doors of the medical laboratory hissed open.

~Thank you for reading