Chapter 28: Crossing Again
The rhythmic clank-thud of mechanical guards echoed as they hauled away the three Ghost Operatives' bodies, leaving smears of dark fluid on the permacrete floor. A heavy, suffocating silence settled over Penitentiary 18, thick enough to muffle even the distant drip of faulty pipes. Elian Thorne sat rigidly at the cold metal table, his face unnaturally pale, eyes distant and unfocused. True fear – raw and primal – churned deep in his gut, turning the bland breakfast he’d eaten into a cold, leaden weight. School had drilled algebra and grammar rules into him. His parents had instilled table manners and laundry routines. But death? That brutal, visceral truth remained untaught. The unnatural snuffing of life mere feet away—its sudden, irrevocable finality—could only be fully grasped through
- Writer
