Emmett's eyes opened to a black void. He was dreaming, or at least it looked like he was. He looked around this dark void and his eyes caught something in the distance; The heads of his parents, floating in the empty space, their features eerily calm, with cruel smiles on their faces.
"Well, if it isn't our dear son. What a pathetic thing you've become,"
his father's head said, his voice a low, dismissive sneer.
"Still clinging to your foolish theory about humanity?"
Emmett felt a cold tremor deep within him. He tried to dismiss the words, but they burrowed past his defenses.
His mother's head joined in, her tone dripping with false sympathy.
"Do you really think your so-called lack of humanity was a strength? All your logic, all your detachment, were just a pathetic act from a scared little boy who was too terrified to cry for his parents "
Her words were hit like a physical blow. The emotional fortress he had been building trembled. A searing, grief-filled ache surged in his chest. It was a raw, agonizing emotion that his body remembered, even if his mind did not. He had nowhere to hide.
The heads of his parents drifted closer, but this time, they were laughing, the sound hollow and mocking.
"Look at you,"
his father's head said, his voice filled with bitter irony.
"You became numb to escape what you called 'weakness,' but you have simply become a slave. You live without emotions, without purpose, a pawn in another man's game. Your strength is nothing more than a prison you built for yourself, a pointless power in your hollow existence."
The torment ended with the final, crushing question from his mother's head, its voice a hollow whisper.
"I gave my life so you could live, Emmett. What have you lived for?"
The hollow whisper of his mother's voice was the first thing that returned to Emmett. It was not a memory, but a sound, something that clawed at the walls of his consciousness.
"I gave my life so you could live, Emmett. What have you lived for?"
The cruel words echoed in his consciousness. The detachment that had been his strength for so long felt like a flimsy shield. It was a lie. He was a lie. He wasn't strong; he was a fool who had survived by renouncing everything that mattered.
He came to with a gasp, a sharp intake of breath. The air smelled of antiseptic and clean linen. He was lying on a soft, padded bed. The sound of excited, distant chatter and muffled celebration reached him from the hallway.
He looked up, and all he saw was a circle of curious faces staring down at him. They were the others: Briar, Felix, Beatrice. Rhys was still on his bed, and Corbin too, the boys having not even bothered to get up and acknowledge Emmett's return to consciousness.
Emmett was the last to awaken, and their expressions were a mixture of relief and curiosity, as if he were an interesting specimen that had finally moved.
The door to the infirmary hissed open, and the celebratory sounds grew louder. The Baron strode in, his face alight with a rare, unrestrained happiness. He was followed by Charolette, her expression far more measured, and the twins, Eta and Theta.
The Baron's grin was wide, the corners of his mouth almost touching his ears.
"Well done, my children! All of you! A resounding success! You are the first human beings to ever receive pure Calvanite into your systems and live to tell the tale. A monumental achievement!"
Briar, her eyes filled with a fragile curiosity, stepped forward.
"Sir,"
she asked softly,
"what of Eta and Theta? Weren't they both injected with Calvanite and still lived?"
The Baron's good mood didn't waver. He simply laughed, a grand sound.
"My dear, those were acts of chance. Unplanned, unmonitored. Their survival, while a fascinating piece of data, was a fluke. This was a deliberate success! The first of many to come."
He clasped his hands together, his face glowing with triumph.
"As a reward for your survival, and to celebrate the first fruits of our labor, I will have a feast tonight in the grand ballroom of the manor. Be ready."
A ripple of excitement went through the children. A feast! The idea of hot, plentiful food was a sweet, tempting promise. All of them brightened at the news, all except Emmett and Corbin.
Emmett sat up slowly, the pain of his mother's last words still clinging to him. He shook his head, his voice as cold and flat as ever.
"I won't be able to attend. I need time to rest."
The Baron's mood soured instantly. The jovial grin vanished, replaced by a scowl.
"You will attend, boy,"
he said, his words a cold command.
"Your presence is mandatory. It's a celebration of your very survival. Do you not value your life?"
Emmett got off his bed, his movements precise and economical. His eyes, the deep, unnerving gray that had once been devoid of emotion, now held a flicker of something new—a barely contained rage.
"No,"
he said, his voice a low, unyielding growl.
"I won't be attending."
The Baron's face darkened, his hand moving towards the gun at his hip.
"You will obey."
"I also won't be attending,"
Corbin said from his bed, his voice calm and cynical. He started to get up, but before he could even take a step, Eta's small, cold hand shot out and gripped his wrist.
"Don't,"
she said, her voice emotionless, her face blank.
"I don't want you dead, so keep your mouth shut and stay still."
The Baron's eyes narrowed, but before the situation could escalate, Briar stepped in, her eyes wide with a plea.
"Please, sir, on his behalf, I apologize. He is still... disoriented from the injection."
She turned to Emmett, her expression filled with a soft desperation.
"He will be there. I promise."
The Baron's dark mood reduced, and he slowly put his hand away.
"I will trust you to live up to your word, Briar."
He then turned his disgusted gaze to Emmett.
"The mere sight of his ungrateful, ugly face spoils my mood."
He turned and left, Charolette following silently behind him, her expression a mix of concern and relief. The twins, Eta and Theta, however, remained in the room, watching the other children with their curious eyes.
A group of doctors then entered and began the formal process of discharging the children.
Soon, the children were on their way back to the manor, to their wing. They walked in a silent procession, the air around them still filled with excitement for the uupcoming feast. The twins followed close behind them, Eta's grip on Corbin's hand still firm.
Once inside their living quarters, Emmett went straight to the balcony, needing the cold, crisp air to clear his head. He leaned on the railing, the Baron's cruel words about his face and his mother's hollow whisper fighting for space in his mind. The noise of the city, the clanking gears and steam-driven whistles of the city below, was dull in his ears.
Briar and the others, except for Rhys, who had disappeared to some corner of the wing, followed him out onto the balcony. Eta, still holding onto Corbin's hand, dragged him along, the boy still looking annoyed and reluctant.
Briar broke the silence.
"Emmett, what are you thinking about?"
she asked gently.
Emmett didn't want to tell her the truth. The last question his mother had asked him was a torment he couldn't share. Instead, he chose to focus on the Baron's insult. It was a more manageable pain, one he could logically dissect.
"He said my face spoiled his mood,"
he said, turning to look at her with an expression of feigned curiosity.
"He said it was... ugly."
He looked at the others, his gaze falling on Briar and then Beatrice.
"Is he right?"
Briar was quick to answer.
"No, Emmett. You look good to me."
"He has the eyes of a dead fish,"
Corbin said, but Eta's hand shot out and covered his mouth before he could complete the thought.
"I agree with Corbin. His eyes are dull, maybe that's why the Baron hates his face so much"
Theta said honestly, but her sister, Eta shot her a warning look before she could finish.
Beatrice spoke with a soft, flustered voice.
"I would rate you a six out of ten. But… if you were less cold and more expressive, I would definitely rate you an eight out of ten."
Felix, ever the comedian, seized the opportunity to tease Beatrice.
"Oh, Beatrice, do you already have eyes for Emmett?"
he asked with a playful grin.
Beatrice's face flushed a deep crimson, and she quickly stammered.
"No! I... it's just a general observation!"
A moment of laughter passed between them. But Emmett didn't join in. The words of his parents echoed relentlessly in his head. He had believed his entire life that his stoicism was his greatest strength. But what if it was just a lie? What if it was just a pathetic, scared act from a boy who was too terrified to cry? The laughter and playful banter faded into the background, a distant sound he couldn't connect with. He was alone with his torment, haunted by the question of whether he had been living his entire life wrong.