CHAPTER 9: AFTERMATH
1076 Words
Selene woke to noise.
Not Cael’s silence. Not the weighted, warm kind he’d left behind. Real noise. The mountain screaming through the walls. Vents shrieking. Machines beeping. A nurse arguing two corridors down. Every sound landed behind her eyes like glass.
The Helm was gone.
She sat up too fast. The bed was cold. The table beside her was empty. No cracked metal. No 3% dial. No Vant’s fingerprints smudged on steel.
Just her. And the mountain.
`Too much. Always too much.`
She pressed her palms to her ears. It didn’t help. She was counting again. One. Two. Three. The panels. Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Back to pulse. Too fast. Back to the clock. Tick. Tick. Tick.
The door hissed.
Not Cael. His steps were lighter. This was heavier. Measured.
Vant.
He entered without knocking. Black shirt. Sleeves rolled. No coat. In his hands: a medical scanner, not the Helm. His gray eyes swept the room once. Bed. Empty table. Selene’s hands over her ears. Blood crusted under her nose from last night.
He didn’t mention it.
“Vitals,” he said. No ‘good morning’. No ‘how did you sleep’.
He set the scanner on the bed and sat on the edge. Not two fingers of space like Cael. Shoulder to shoulder. Close enough that Selene could feel the heat off him. Close enough that when he reached for her wrist, his thumb brushed the inside of her pulse point.
Her breath caught.
He held it there. Three seconds. Four. Counting, like she did. Like Cael did. The scanner beeped softly.
“Neural spike at 0307,” Vant said finally. He didn’t look at her. He looked at the numbers. “3am. Explain.”
Selene pulled her hand back. “I don’t know.”
“Lie,” he said. Still not looking at her. “I can hear it in your heartbeat.”
The door hissed again.
Prof. Kade. Clipboard in hand. Eyes sharp. Behind him, a med tech with a tray. Behind the tech, Serath.
Arms folded. Back against the doorframe. Not entering. Just watching. Cold stare. Like she’d been waiting.
“Heard we had a visitor at 0300,” Serath said. Voice flat. Too loud for the room. “Med bay rules say no tech after 2200.”
Kade’s gaze snapped to Selene. Then to Vant. “Neural activity spiked at 3am. What happened, Dr. Vant?”
Vant stood. He moved between Selene and Kade. Shielding her without touching her. Without looking at her.
“She had a nightmare,” Vant said. Flat. Final. “Adrenaline spike. Nothing more. Scans clear. She’s stable.”
The lie again. `Scans clear. She’s stable.` Same words as Ch7. Same smudge of fingerprints on metal that wasn’t there anymore.
Selene’s stomach dropped. Because this time, she understood what it cost.
Kade didn’t believe it. She saw it in the way his jaw tightened. But he nodded once. “We’ll monitor. 48 hours still stands. No tech.” His eyes flicked to Serath. “And no visitors.”
Serath smiled. Didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course, Professor.” She didn’t look at Selene. She looked at Vant. “Wouldn’t want rumors starting. About certain... thorns... getting special treatment.”
Vant didn’t react. “Leave.”
Kade and the tech left. Serath lingered one second longer. Her gaze cut to Selene. `I know.` Then she was gone.
The door closed.
Silence returned. Not Cael’s kind. The heavy kind. The waiting kind.
Vant turned back to Selene. He picked up the scanner. Set it down. Picked it up again. For the first time since she’d met him, his hands weren’t steady.
“No bubble,” he said finally. Quiet. “No tech. Kade’s orders.”
Selene nodded. Her throat was dry. “I know.”
“You remember what quiet felt like,” Vant said. He wasn’t asking. “Now you train without it. Control, Selene. Not escape.”
He gestured to the center of the room. “One hour. Full sensory input. No Helm. No filter. You endure.”
Selene stared at him. “For what?”
“For when the mountain finds you,” Vant said. His voice was low. Rough. “Because it will. That frequency you dreamed about? It’s broadcasting. And it’s not looking for me.”
He didn’t touch her. He just stepped back. Two meters. Exactly the radius Cael’s bubble had been.
“Begin.”
The hour was hell.
Minute 1: The vent scream was a blade.
Minute 10: A machine beeped and her vision whited out.
Minute 23: Someone laughed in the hall and she was back in her stepfather’s house, counting seconds between footsteps.
Minute 41: Blood started trickling from her left ear. She didn’t wipe it.
Vant watched. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Gray eyes tracked every flinch, every gasp, every time her hands came up to her ears.
At minute 58, her knees buckled. She caught herself on the bedframe. Blood ran hot down her neck. From her nose now too.
“Stop,” she whispered.
Vant didn’t.
At minute 60, the wall clock ticked to the hour.
“Stop,” Vant said.
Selene collapsed onto the bed. Gasping. Shaking. Blood on her lips. She tasted copper.
Vant moved then. Fast. He crouched beside her. His thumb came up and wiped blood from under her nose. One stroke. Clinical. But his hand lingered half a second too long.
“Better,” he said. Quiet.
He saw the blood. He saw her shaking. He saw it all.
He didn’t stop it.
Selene met his eyes. For the first time, she didn’t look away. “Control, not escape,” she said. Voice hoarse. Blood on her teeth. “Is that what this is?”
Vant’s jaw flexed once. He stood. Turned to go.
At the door he paused. Same as last night.
“The broadcast,” he said without turning. “It’s getting closer. It said your name last night. Not mine.”
Then he was gone.
Selene lay back and stared at the ceiling. Twenty-seven panels. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine.
But this time she wasn’t counting to survive.
She was counting how long she could bleed before someone decided peace mattered more than control.
Outside the door, Serath was already talking. Her voice drifted through the crack.
“Vant’s little thorn is bleeding for him now...”
And somewhere in the mountain, the frequency pulsed once.
Like it had heard her name.
- Writer
