Sinn strode out of the dimly lit room, his face an unreadable mask of calm, as if he'd left all emotion behind with the closing door.
In the corridor, a hush fell over the gathered crew. Some wore their worry like heavy cloaks, eyes darting anxiously between Sinn and the sealed chamber; others exchanged puzzled glances, brows furrowed, still trying to piece together what had happened inside—and why it had taken so long.
Yet not everyone was caught in the web of tension. Leaning against the wall with arms folded and a careless tilt to her chin, Luna, the captain's daughter, watched Sinn with a spark of mischief in her eyes.
She broke the silence, her voice smooth and unhurried, slicing through the uncertainty like a blade.
"So, what did you talk about in there?" she asked, her tone cool and commanding, as though she expected obedience rather than conversation.
Her words drifted into the air, inconsequential as dust motes caught in a sunbeam; Sinn's purpose had already taken root, unstoppable.
At this moment, his deepest yearning was simple yet profound—to step beyond these walls, to drink in the crisp breath of the outside world with his own lungs.
He moved through the sterile corridors with unwavering certainty, each stride echoing against polished linoleum floors. The others watched, their faces painted with confusion and curiosity—Jenny among them, her eyes narrowed, lips parted in silent question.
Yet, drawn by an invisible thread, they fell in behind him, their footsteps hesitant but compelled. Sinn navigated the labyrinthine hallways as if guided by memory etched into bone, turning sharp corners until he halted before a steel door.
It slid open with a mechanical sigh, revealing the cold gleam of an elevator.
Sinn entered, his movements unhurried, and pressed the button for the first floor. Before the doors could seal shut, Jenny slipped inside, her presence a quiet assertion beside him.
His face remained carved in indifference, crimson eyes unreadable; it mattered little who joined him, so long as they did not delay his journey.
He caught Jenny's subtle gestures as she instructed the others to wait their turn, her voice low and urgent.
Perhaps she sensed the storm of power and intelligence swirling around him, unwilling to risk crowding the elevator and provoking this enigmatic pureblood.
To his surprise, the group acquiesced without protest, their reluctance palpable. None wished to share such close quarters with a creature cloaked in mystery—a being whose very silence seemed to hum with secrets. The elevator's ascent was marked by a soft ding, but the hush within was thick, almost suffocating.
Jenny's fingers twitched, tempted to break the silence with conversation, but she held back, granting him the solitude he seemed to crave.
She puzzled over his sudden reticence, the intensity burning in his gaze. Yet she was not naïve enough to let him ride alone; escape was not his aim. If it were, he wouldn't have lingered, bargaining and making demands.
Her curiosity about Sinn burned bright, a restless ember. She wondered if he sensed the probing energy she sent his way, though she made her intentions clear—harmless, driven only by fascination.
Still, if Sinn's posture stiffened or his eyes flickered with irritation, she would cease immediately; she would not risk fracturing the fragile cooperation with this mysterious pureblood.
Her brief hesitation pleased Sinn, though his compliments came wrapped in barbed expectation and sly insult.
…
The elevator chimed, its doors parting like curtains on a stage. Sinn and Jenny stepped out into a corridor bathed in sterile light, the walls gleaming with a mirror-like sheen. Floors spiraled upward and downward, staircases twisting around vast panes of glass that revealed the city's electric heart beyond. Sinn was unperturbed; he knew this place well—the factory hidden beneath the hospital's facade.
He doubted the staff above were truly ignorant of the experiments conducted below. Still, it was folly to blame every soul for complicity. He felt no urge to spill blood—his first evolutionary task was complete, and his second required only the rare blood of spirit fairy trees.
To kill now would brand him a monster, hunted and feared. He had already displayed intelligence and empathy, shown both compassion and fury at his captivity.
Further violence would only shackle him. Humans were frail, shadows compared to half-lings, whose lives flourished in ways humans could scarcely imagine. Only a sliver of humanity remained in this world, their strength diluted and pitiable.
Sinn strode toward the front entrance, Jenny trailing like a loyal shadow, her demeanor that of a secretary poised to fulfill his every need.
The doors slid open with a hiss, and Sinn stepped into the night. A biting wind whipped across his bare chest, stinging skin and ruffling the remnants of his asylum jumpsuit, which hung from his waist in tattered strips. His hair was a cascade of midnight, framing eyes that glowed with deep crimson fire. Two horns curled from his scalp, casting demonic silhouettes in the neon glow.
Part of his face was stripped of flesh, exposing raw muscle and bone—a grotesque mask that inspired terror, and made Jenny's composure all the more remarkable.
Sinn knew ugliness was common in this world, but few could rival the artistry of his own monstrous form.
He paused a few meters beyond the hospital's threshold. The streets stretched empty, abandoned to the night. Towering skyscrapers loomed overhead, their windows ablaze with shifting colors. Neon signs flickered and danced, painting the darkness with electric hues. Above, flying cars zipped past, leaving trails of light that shimmered like shooting stars.
For the first time, Sinn inhaled deeply, letting the cold air fill his lungs—a taste of freedom, sharp and exhilarating.
Above Telcos City, the sky was alive with motion—battleships and aircraft of fantastical shapes glided through the air, their hulls gleaming with neon accents and shifting patterns.
The city itself sprawled below like a living mosaic, its architecture a marvel of intricate designs and vibrant, spiraling towers that twisted upward in defiance of gravity. Every building seemed to pulse with color, illuminated by streams of light that danced along their surfaces, casting prismatic reflections onto the streets.
Telcos City was unmistakably a product of advanced science and imagination—a place where technology had leapt beyond the boundaries of fiction, rivaling the wonders seen only in the most visionary films or novels.
Research and innovation thrived here, evident in every shimmering panel and hovering vehicle.
Sinn lifted his gaze to the heavens, but the dazzling spectacle of the city paled in comparison to what lay above. The night sky unfurled in a breathtaking tapestry—a massive shimmer of galaxies, swirling nebulae, and the radiant sweep of the Milky Way.
Colors bled and blended across the darkness, painting cosmic rivers that could steal the breath from any who looked upon them.
It was clear to Sinn that the citizens of Telcos City sought to capture a fragment of this celestial beauty in their own creations, striving to mirror the grandeur of the universe in glass and steel.
Yet, no matter how brilliant their efforts, nothing could truly rival the majesty overhead.
He drew in deep, steady breaths of the cool night air, savoring the freshness that filled his lungs. Jenny, standing nearby, felt a wave of relief wash over her—Sinn's longing was for fresh air, not destruction.
The night was calm, the air crisp and invigorating. Stars glittered above, their light reflected in Sinn's crimson eyes as he stood transfixed, utterly captivated by the cosmic panorama.
He paid no heed to the approaching footsteps behind him—the rest of the team catching up, their presence insignificant against the vastness of the universe.
Sinn remained rooted in place, breathing deeply, his attention wholly consumed by the endless, beautiful sky.