(POV - Emily Parker)
Inside her office, Emily kept her eyes fixed on the computer screen, her expression heavy with concentration as she reviewed, once again, the list of anomalies to be displayed to the public at the upcoming exhibition.
This wasn't the first time she had examined that document, and it probably wouldn't be the last. It was almost a ritual: reviewing, rethinking, and sometimes rearranging the order or placement of certain items.
Even though the security team assured her that all preventive measures were in place, Emily could never shake the uneasy feeling that some of those anomalies still posed too great a risk to ordinary people, unprepared and unaware of the dangers such objects could present.
At times, she would pause for long seconds in front of a specific name on the list, fingers hovering over the mouse, caught between reason and intuition. Almost as if she sensed that, no matter how safe it seemed, that choice could have consequences.
In the end, the more Emily reviewed the list, the more changes she made. It was as if with each new look, doubts, possibilities, and risks she hadn't considered before would arise. However, after long minutes of indecision, she finally stopped. She had reached a version that, for the first time that morning, truly satisfied her.
The new list seemed balanced: it sparked the visitors' curiosity, evoking that mix of fascination and apprehension she wanted to create, but at the same time, followed practical safety guidelines.
If anything got out of control — and Emily knew that with anomalies, this was always a real risk — the planned containment measures would be enough to prevent a catastrophe. She took a deep breath, reviewed the names one last time, and with a slight nod, decided this would be the final version.
At last, with a subtle half-smile on her lips, Emily slowly leaned back in her chair, allowing herself a rare moment of relief. It was as if, almost magically, all her worries had been swept away, dissipated into the air like smoke on the wind.
For a few precious seconds, she felt the invisible weight on her shoulders simply vanish, as if the whole world, with all its suffocating pressures and responsibilities, had been lifted off her.
And, in a way... maybe that was exactly it. For the first time in a long while, Emily genuinely believed she had made the right choice. Deep down, she knew the real reason behind all of it. It wasn't just for her, or out of blind duty.
What Emily really wanted with all this — what she had always wanted — was to prove to humans that anomalies, by themselves, were not monsters thirsty for destruction. They weren't inevitable threats. If people were careful... if they acted with intelligence and respect... then maybe, just maybe, they could learn more about them.
With a deep sigh, Emily diverted her gaze from the computer screen and fixed it on a carefully framed photo on her desk. Her eyes scanned every little detail of the image: the background of a simple park, grass slightly yellowed by the sun, some blurred trees in the distance... But soon her attention focused on the true subject of the photograph: the two little girls captured there.
They looked incredibly alike, almost like two versions of the same person at different moments. However, a closer look revealed the differences.
While one stood stiffly, arms pressed to her sides and eyes downcast, showing visible shyness, the other wore a wide smile, her eyes sparkling with mischievous joy as she made an exaggerated peace sign with her hand.
There was a slight dirt smudge on her knee, as if she had just been running or playing minutes before the picture was taken. Emily lingered there for a few seconds, lost in thought.
"Sister... it took longer than we expected, but it looks like we've finally reached the starting point you wanted so badly" Emily's voice came out low, almost a whisper heavy with exhaustion and relief.
Her eyes remained fixed on the photo before her, analyzing every detail as if searching for hidden answers in the shadows of the image. Yet, even while staring at the photo, it was clear her mind was far away.
***
(POV – Protagonist)
Inside my room — or rather, my containment room — I was calmly savoring the ice cream of the day. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I let the spoon lazily glide through the plastic cup as my eyes scanned the room.
I glanced at Nekra, Althea, and Nyara, each lost in her own thoughts. For a brief moment, my gaze turned toward myself, reflected in the dark glass of the observation window in the corner of the room. It was still... unsettling.
Seeing my own silhouette and noticing how much I had changed. My height, once ordinary, now stood out starkly. I was much bigger... broader... with wide shoulders and more defined features. I held the spoon mid-air for a second, just staring at my reflection.
Instead of looking like a 9 or 10-year-old kid, as before, I now resembled a teenager around 15 or 16. My body had gained more defined shapes, and my stature had changed as well, though I was still a bit shorter than Nyara. On the other hand, I remained visibly taller than Nekra and Althea. In the end, my size was sort of a middle ground between the two extremes of the group.
Besides that, there were two slightly curved horns emerging from the top of my head, dark in color and with a texture resembling a mix between polished bone and aged metal.
They were heavy enough to gently push my posture forward, but surprisingly, they didn't cause much pain or discomfort — the unease was more of a constant pressure, easy to ignore over time.
The real problem, however, was the wings. Two large wings of pure white down, sprouting just above my tailbone, as if they were a strange extension of my body.
The sensation was curious: whenever they moved, a soft shiver ran down my back, accompanied by an almost ghostly itch at the point of connection. The touch of the feathers against my skin was light but relentless, like a whispering wind that never stopped.
The most annoying thing was that these wings seemed to have a will of their own. No matter how hard I tried to control them, most of the time they moved involuntarily, reacting to strong emotions or even simple mood changes.
A slight irritation or a scare was enough for them to flutter without warning, causing discomfort that was hard to hide... but, in the end, it was still something I could live with.
Until that moment, everything seemed to be going well. The world would finally come to know the existence of the anomalies. In a way, there was some relief in that.
As someone who once was human, I fully understood the initial shock it would cause. It was natural. Fear, denial, panic... all predictable. But humans are notoriously adaptable creatures. Always have been.
No matter how frightening or incomprehensible the anomalies seemed at first glance, I knew sooner or later they would learn to live with them. After all, it's not like they had a choice.
Anomalies would keep appearing, whether they accepted it or not. There was no way to stop, control, or ignore them for long. The only option left was to adapt... or be swallowed by the new reality.
However, for some reason I can't explain, I don't feel like things will go so smoothly. People have already died because of these anomalies... entire families destroyed, ripped from their loved ones in brutal and sudden ways.
Even though most have, in a way, accepted and moved on — or rather, simply resigned themselves to the fact that there's nothing they can do against it — do they all really think that way? Have they all accepted this helplessness? Something inside me, an uncomfortable and persistent feeling, tells me no... That sooner or later, someone will speak out against this.
***
(POV - Emily Parker)
Lost in her own thoughts, a soft knocking echoed at the door. For a brief moment, Emily blinked as if waking from a trance, before regaining awareness of the present moment. Her eyes, once distant and vacant, slowly turned toward the door.
After a second of silence, in a low and controlled voice, calmly weighted, she said: "Come in"
Following Emily's words, the door creaked open slowly. Laura, Victor, and Rupert, who had been waiting outside, stepped inside with calm, synchronized footsteps.
Laura, walking ahead of the trio, was the first to break the silence. Her posture was firm, and her tone direct, yet tinged with a slight accumulated fatigue: "Boss, we finished moving the anomalies according to the list we received"
She took a deep breath before continuing: "Many of the scientists seem pleased with the new arrangement... especially considering that, this time, most of the anomalies on the list are, at least in theory, possible to contain... even for us, who are just scientists"
Emily nodded in confirmation, as if that were an obvious conclusion. After all, the list had been created exactly for that purpose. After a brief moment of silence, she diverted her gaze toward Rupert, who remained by Victor's side with an attentive but reserved expression. Noticing he was now the center of attention, Rupert subtly adjusted his posture, took a deep breath, and without hesitation, spoke next.
"We completed a thorough check of all possible procedures for any situation that might arise. My team and I are fully confident that if something unexpected happens, we'll be prepared to act quickly and ensure the safety of the visitors before anyone gets hurt"
Emily nodded slowly, absorbing Rupert's words. Then she turned last to Victor, whose gaze met hers immediately, as if anticipating the silent questioning. He answered without hesitation: "I don't have much to add" Victor said, his voice firm but restrained: "My case is similar to Rupert's. Although the anomalies I'll be monitoring are a bit more dangerous, I don't believe anything truly serious will happen"
Emily finally let out a relieved sigh hearing everyone's words around her. On the outside, her expression was calm, almost unshakable, but inside, a slight sting of nervousness still insisted on making itself felt — a subtle but constant sensation.
After all, nothing could go wrong at that moment. That was precisely why the most dangerous anomalies were carefully isolated in the deepest and most inaccessible areas of the facility.
The next moment, Emily slowly rose from her chair, her fingers sliding along her wrist until they found the watch fastened there. Her eyes fixed on the digital display: it was exactly 7:45 a.m.
Less than fifteen minutes remained before the official opening of the exhibition. She stayed there for a moment, absorbing the faint silence hanging in the room, while the distant soft sounds of voices and footsteps began to seep into the space.
Since the previous night, Emily hadn't been able to close her eyes for even a second. However, the exhaustion showed no marks on her expression. Her eyes remained lively, sharp, almost defying exhaustion itself.
For her, staying awake for days on end was already routine — a natural state her body and mind embraced without protest. Thus, facing a vigil of only one day seemed to Emily something trivial, almost insignificant compared to her usual endurance.
Putting thoughts aside for a moment, Emily stood up with quiet determination. Her footsteps echoed softly down the hallway as she headed toward the door, keeping her eyes fixed on the path ahead. Behind her, Rupert, Laura, and Victor followed silently, attentive to every movement.
In a serene voice, yet full of expectation, Emily said: "Let's go, it's almost time to receive the guests"
Minutes later, Emily, Victor, Rupert, and Laura walked silently through the corridors of the facility, each step echoing lightly off the cold, deserted walls.
Approaching the exit, they reached the imposing metal gate of the warehouse. The moment Emily stood in front of it, as if the gate recognized her presence, a slow reaction began.
A sharp metallic creak cut through the silence, echoing with an almost threatening force as the huge door began to open. The old, rusty, and reluctant gears seemed to protest the movement, as if resisting the passage.
A beam of yellowish light slipped through the crack between the door and the floor, penetrating the dark, damp interior of the facility. Gradually, the light revealed what lay outside, casting dancing shadows on the walls.