For the next few days, their lives became a slow descent toward the inevitable. Every morning, they were led to the lab for another injection, a small, diluted dose of the strange, purple liquid.
The procedure was always the same: a scientist in a white coat would clean their arm, and a tiny, sterile needle would deliver its dose. The feeling was a brief, a sharp prick, followed by a warmth that spread through their veins.
With each passing day, the children grew more quiet, their laughter and chatter replaced by a tense silence. The dread of the coming d-day hung over them.
Then, the day arrived.
The doors to their quarters creaked open, revealing the Baron and Charolette, who stood side-by-side. They didn't speak; they simply motioned for the children to follow. The children followed them quietly. Their hearts pounded in their chests, a rhythm of fear and anticipation. They were a flock of silent sheep being led to be slaughtered.
They went down to the lab, and the Baron led them to a chamber they had never seen before. The room was vast and sterile, with stark white walls and a polished floor that reflected the harsh overhead lights.
At the far corner, behind a massive glass panel, was a separate room. In it, scientists and researchers in white coats moved with a quiet, efficient purpose, making final preparations for the grand experiment.
At the center of the chamber were what looked like six beds, lined up in a neat row. But these weren't exactly beds, at least not ordinary beds. They were steel slabs with a thick padding of linen, designed more for function than comfort. On both sides of each bed was a complex mechanical arm consisting of brass gears and polished chrome.
On the end of each arm were three syringes, each filled with the glowing, purple liquid. A total of six syringes per bed. But this Calvanite was different from what they had been injected with before. There was no dullness or cloudiness to it; this fluid was vibrant, luminous, and pure.
The children stopped dead in their tracks, their eyes wide with horror as they stared at the mechanical arms. The sheer number of syringes was an alarming sight. Rhys broke the tense silence. His voice was laced with a palpable fear.
"Sir, why are the beds set up like that?"
he asked, his eyes glued to the syringes.
"Aren't we getting the injection in our arms as usual?"
The Baron turned, a calm, almost patient smile on his face.
"My dear boy,"
he said,
"If all that dose were to be injected into one arm, that arm would shrivel up. The sheer intensity of the pure Calvanite might render the muscles useless."
He gestured to the mechanical arms.
"I'm sure you wouldn't want that."
The children recoiled, their faces drained of color. The cruelty in the Baron's voice, the cold, scientific logic of his explanation, was chilling. They looked down at their arms, imagining their muscles withering away, their skin tightening and turning to something useless. A cold fear, far more potent than any kind they had felt before, washed over them.
Corbin, however, pushed through the fear with his usual analytical curiosity.
"Where do you intend on giving us the injections then?"
he asked, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands.
The Baron's smile widened.
"The fluid,"
he said, gesturing to the syringes,
"will be injected into your body, through your back. The back muscles are strong enough to withstand the initial shock, and they have the most efficient pathways to the nervous system."
The children's reactions were immediate. Felix's face went pale, and Beatrice let out a whimper. The thought of six needles piercing into their backs was terrifying, far more terrifying than a simple arm injection. But they knew there was no escaping their fate. They were here now, and there was no going back.
"Take off your shirts,"
the Baron commanded,
"and lie on the beds, on your bellies."
Some of the children hesitated for a moment, but none dared to defy him. One by one, they stripped their shirts off and lay on the cold steel slabs. The moment they were on the beds, restraints made of polished brass clamped down on their wrists and ankles. The click of the locks echoed in the silent chamber, a sound of finality.
The Baron smiled, a glint of pure satisfaction in his eyes. He gave a nod to Charolette, who followed him into the glass-paneled room.
Behind the glass, the researchers and scientists moved with intensity. One of them, a man with a tired face and a pristine white coat, looked at the Baron and then began a countdown.
"Five... four... three... two... one..."
When he got to zero, he pulled a lever. A low hum filled the room, and the mechanical arms on each bed extended, the six syringes on each arm piercing into the children's backs in six separate points.
A unified cry of pain filled the air. Felix screamed, a high-pitched, desperate sound. Briar let out a roar of and pain. Emmett, ever stoic, only let out a guttural sound, his teeth gnashing. Rhys's cry was a more of a sob. Beatrice's gasp was a sharp intake of breath, a sound of pure agony. And Corbin, he was the one to scream the loudest, a piercing, inhuman shriek that tore through his throat.
The Calvanite was slowly injected into them. A fire, more intense than any they had felt before, coursed through their veins. One by one, the children began to have unnerving reactions.
Their bodies thrashed against the restraints, their muscles twitching and convulsing as the fluid enteredtheir system.
Felix's body arched to an impossible angle, his spine popping and cracking.
Briar's body seized, her muscles coiling, and a thin foam frothed at her lips.
Emmett's body became as rigid as stone, his face an impassive mask, but his eyes rolled back until only the whites were showing, and a thin trickle of blood began to seep from the corner of his nose.
Rhys's skin, pale and fragile, became mottled, his body shaking violently, his teeth rattling.
Beatrice's body was racked with shivers, her delicate frame convulsing as a guttural sound rumbled from her throat.
And Corbin... Corbin's eyes snapped open, bloodshot and wide, and a tear streaked down his face as he lay motionless, every muscle in his body twitching.
After what seemed like an eternity, the children's bodies stopped moving, the Calvanite fully injected into them. Their eyes were vacant, their expressions blank. The room fell silent again, save for the low hum of the machinery.
A medical staff on standby rushed to each bed to check their vitals.
The moment of truth had arrived.
The medical staff gave a series of nods and thumbs-ups to the room behind the glass. The scientist in the white coat gave a little jump of joy. Then, the other scientists and researchers in the room, even Charolette, started cheering, their 5 years of work had finally borne its first fruits. Even the Baron was in a very good mood, his face split into a wide, triumphant grin.
The children, now motionless, and out cold, were taken to the infirmary where they were kept under supervision. They had survived, but at what cost? And what would happen to them now?