The observation room was dim, lit mostly by the glow of screens and the faint illumination from the containment chamber beyond the glass.
Hana remained motionless.
Unchanged.
Andrew stood at the console, scrolling through streams of data, his expression tightening the longer he looked.
Philip waited.
The Seraphs stood behind them—silent, watching.
Andrew finally exhaled.
"The liquid in the case…" he began, tapping the screen, bringing up a molecular structure that pulsed faintly in blue, "…it's Haikitium."
That got everyone's attention.
Rafael frowned. "The same thing that powers us?"
Andrew nodded.
"Yes. Not just powers them—it's likely the core of everything they are. Their enhancements, their stability… all of it traces back to this."
He paused, glancing through the glass at Hana.
"And she absorbed it."
A slight shift in the room.
"Not through controlled injection," Andrew continued. "No preparation. No regulation. No stabilization protocols."
He shook his head slowly.
"She took it raw, unfiltered and unstable."
Zahara's voice was quiet. "What does that mean?"
Andrew didn't answer immediately.
He adjusted the display, pulling up fluctuating readings—spikes, drops, erratic patterns.
"It means there are various possibilities, she's very unstable."
Seraphina crossed her arms. "Define unstable."
Andrew gave a dry, humorless breath.
"It's like she's in a coma… but not a normal one. Her body is doing something—adapting, reacting, maybe even evolving—but it's completely uncontrolled."
He gestured toward the data.
"These readings shouldn't even be possible. They're all over the place."
Aziel finally spoke.
"And when she wakes up?"
Andrew looked at him.
Then answered plainly.
"It's if she wakes up and if that does happen then anything could happen."
Silence.
"She could come out stronger," Andrew said. "Far stronger than before. Beyond what we've already seen."
A pause.
"Or…"
He tapped the screen again.
"The opposite. System collapse. Loss of ability. Permanent damage."
His voice dropped slightly.
"Or she could lose stability entirely."
Malak frowned. "Meaning?"
Andrew didn't soften it.
"Madness, mutation, death."
The word hung in the air.
"She's taken in more Haikitium than any controlled subject ever should," Andrew continued. "There's no data for this. No precedent. No safe outcome."
He shook his head again, more firmly this time.
"I'll keep monitoring her. I'll update you if anything changes."
Philip's voice came, calm as always.
"And your assessment?"
Andrew leaned back slightly, folding his arms.
For once—no hesitation.
"Don't get your hopes up."
The Seraphs remained still.
Andrew's gaze shifted briefly to Hana through the glass.
"It's either going to be really good…"
A small pause.
"…or really bad."
"And with the amount she absorbed…"
He exhaled slowly.
"I'm placing my money on bad."
Beyond the glass—
Hana didn't move.
Didn't react.
Didn't change.
___
The door to Philip's office slid open without warning.
Andrew stepped in.
Tension written all over his face.
"Philip… we have a problem."
Philip looked up wondering what was going on to make Andrew so agitated.
"Go on."
Andrew , placing his tablet on the desk. A stream of code and signal traces flickered to life between them.
"I was running a routine check on our base defenses," he said. "Firewalls, internal systems, signal integrity—standard procedure after the operation."
He tapped the screen.
A red pulse blinked.
"Then I found this."
Philip's eyes narrowed slightly. "Explain."
"An encrypted signal," Andrew said. "Outbound. Not inbound—outbound."
" Meaning from inside our system."
Silence.
Philip leaned forward slightly. "Source?"
Andrew shook his head. "Buried deep. Masked. Whoever set it up knew exactly how to hide it. It piggybacks off routine transmissions—maintenance pings, satellite syncs, harmless traffic."
He zoomed in.
"But it's not harmless."
The signal pulsed again.
Slow.
Consistent.
"What is it transmitting?" Philip asked.
Andrew didn't answer immediately.
He looked up instead.
Serious now.
"Our location."
The room went still.
Philip leaned back slightly, processing. "And you shut it down?"
Andrew nodded. "Immediately. Killed the channel, purged the pathway, isolated the system."
A beat.
Then—
"But that's not the problem."
Philip's gaze sharpened. "Then what is?"
Andrew exhaled slowly.
"I don't know how long it's been active."
Silence deepened.
"Minutes?" Philip asked.
"Maybe."
"Hours?"
"…Possible."
Andrew held his gaze.
"Days."
That landed.
Philip stood.
"So your conclusion?"
Andrew didn't hesitate this time.
"The Sanctum already knows where we are."
A faint hum filled the room—the distant sound of systems running, of a base functioning normally.
Too normally.
Philip walked to the window overlooking the facility below. Scientists moved. Soldiers trained. Systems operated.
Unaware they had been compromised.
*Knock* *knock*
The knocking of the door rang out in the room.
A soldier came into Philip's office, slightly out of breath but holding composure.
"Sir—"
He glanced briefly at Andrew, then back.
"She's awake."
Philip moved.
Andrew was already grabbing his tablet.
"Vitals?" Andrew asked as they stepped into the corridor.
"Stable… but fluctuating," the soldier replied, keeping pace.
"That doesn't mean anything," Andrew muttered.
They moved fast.
Boots echoed through the metallic corridors as personnel instinctively cleared the way. Word spread without words—something had changed.
By the time they reached the observation deck, the Seraphs were already there watching.
Philip stepped forward.
Andrew moved beside him.
Behind the glass—
Hana was no longer still.
She was sitting upright.
The restraints held her in place—wrists, arms, torso—but her posture had changed.
No longer passive.
No longer dormant.
Her head was slightly lowered.
Hair falling over her face.
Still.
Too still.
"Vitals?" Philip asked quietly.
Andrew's eyes scanned the data rapidly.
His expression shifted.
Then shifted again.
"I don't…" he started, then stopped.
"That's not possible."
Seraphina stepped closer to the glass.
"What?"
Andrew didn't look away from the screen.
"They're stabilizing."
A beat.
Then—
"They shouldn't be."
Inside the room—
Hana's fingers twitched.
Slow.
Deliberate.
The restraints responded instantly.
A low hum increased in pitch as they tightened slightly, adjusting to micro-movements.
Malak frowned. "Is she trying to break free?"
"No," Aziel said quietly.
They all looked at him.
His eyes didn't leave Hana.
"She's testing it."
Silence.
Inside—
Hana lifted her head.
Slowly.
Her eyes opened and looked directly at them.
A faint flicker crossed the monitors.
Andrew's voice dropped.
"…That's not right."
Zahara crossed her arms slightly. "You said she might go mad, is she mad?"
Andrew swallowed faintly.
"I also said there was no in-between and I don't know yet."
Inside the room—
Hana tilted her head slightly.
Observing.
Processing.
Not reacting.
Just… watching.
Philip stepped closer to the glass.
For the first time—
Something in his expression shifted.
Interest.
"Can she hear us?" he asked.
Andrew nodded slowly. "Most likely."
A pause.
Philip spoke.
Calm. Controlled.
"Hello."
No response.
But her eyes—
Didn't move from him.
Who was observing who.
The observation room remained still.
Hana sat restrained behind the glass, unmoving, her eyes steady—watching.
Andrew stared at her.
Not at the restraints.
Not at the monitors.
At her.
Something wasn't right.
His gaze shifted—slowly—down to the remnants of her suit.
A thought formed.
Small.
Then sharp.
Andrew stepped closer to the glass.
Closer than before.
Studying the material, the seams, the faint embedded lines running along it.
"…No," he murmured.
He turned immediately, pulling up a diagnostic overlay on his tablet—low-frequency scans, passive emissions, environmental interactions.
He aligned it with her position.
Waited.
A pulse.
His eyes flicked up.
Then back to the data.
Another pulse.
Andrew froze.
Philip noticed.
"What is it?"
Andrew didn't answer right away.
He adjusted the scan again—refined it, isolated it, stripped away everything unnecessary until only one pattern remained.
Thin.
Subtle.
Hidden.
Then he looked at Philip.
"I think… I know what the source of the signal is."
Philip stepped closer, his tone quiet but sharp. "What is it?"
Andrew exhaled once, steadying his thoughts.
"It's not a standard transmission," he said. "That's why it was easy to detect once I noticed it—but hard to understand before."
He turned the screen toward Philip.
"It's not trying to be discrete."
Philip's eyes scanned the data.
"Then what is it trying to be?"
Andrew glanced back at Hana.
Then at what remained of her suit.
"Fast."
A pause.
Andrew continued, quieter now.
"I believe it's either her… or more likely the suit she's wearing."
He pointed to the faint signal trace.
"Its primary function isn't to broadcast constantly. It uses whatever technology is nearby—systems, networks, signals…"
He tapped the screen lightly.
"…and rides them."
Philip's expression didn't change.
But his focus sharpened.
"It transmits location data in fragments," Andrew went on. "Being discrete means it takes more time and if we discovered it before it was able to be broadcast it'll be for nothing so when designing it they discarded discretion and made it fast I was able to easily discover it but it had done its job because it was fast enough."
"That's the trade-off."
Philip said it for him.
"Discretiom for speed."
Andrew nodded.
"Yes."
They both looked through the glass.
Hana didn't move.
Didn't react.
But the realization settled anyway.
Andrew spoke again, softer now.
"As long as she's near any form of active technology… it doesn't matter how secure we are."
A pause.
"They'll find her."
Philip said nothing.
He simply watched her, contemplating what to do.
Because the moment they brought her in—
They had brought her entire organization with her.