The Fraying Thread of a Soul
The silence in the Vanguard Core chamber was deafening, a vacuum where the ear-splitting shriek of clashing essence had just been. Dr. Aris Thorne's holographic projection had dissolved, his final, choked cry of "Impossible!" a fading echo in the cold, sterile air. Rhys’s body, now free from the bio-metallic tendrils of corruption, collapsed to the floor with a hollow thud. He lay motionless in the center of the room, a tragic figure in a desolate landscape of steel and sterile white light.
Kieran was at his side in a single, fluid motion, his heart a frantic drumbeat of terror and hope. He knelt, his hands trembling as he checked for a pulse. It was there, a faint, thready beat against his fingers, a defiant rhythm of life. His breath escaped him in a shud
