chapter 7/8/9
1728 Words
Chapter Seven — Ashes Don’t Lie
(Adira’s POV — Present Day)
I didn’t sleep that night.
The rain outside my window whispered like voices I couldn’t translate — broken, urgent, endless.
Velora has a way of talking when you’re too tired to listen.
I laid out everything I’d taken from Mavick Corporation: the stolen blueprints, the half-burnt notes, and the silver locket. One page was darker than the rest — smoke-stained, edges crisp, words barely visible.
“Eden Lives.”
It made no sense. My mother’s death was supposed to be the end of everything — but what if it wasn’t?
The locket clicked open in my hand. Beneath my childhood photo, something small was tucked inside the frame — a folded strip of paper so thin it had almost fused with the metal. I pried it loose.
Three numbers.
Coordinates.
47.191 — 3.09 — 6.27.
Not random. Not in Velora’s mapping format, either. My pulse quickened. I cross-checked it on my tablet — the location pointed to the city’s edge, where old factories had been abandoned decades ago.
The same area where the Eden labs were rumored to be built.
I stared at the blinking red dot on the map and whispered to the empty room, “Mom… what were you doing?”
Before I could process the thought, my phone buzzed — an unknown number.
> Unknown: “Stop looking.”
Unknown: “She isn’t dead.”
My stomach dropped.
The phone slipped from my hand, landing face-up on the table.
The message disappeared a second later, as if it was never sent.
I backed away slowly, my breath shaking. The street outside was quiet — too quiet. Then I saw it.
A figure across the road, standing beneath the flickering streetlamp.
Motionless. Watching.
And even from that distance, I recognized the faint glint of a ring — the same one Lior wore.
I grabbed my bag, stuffed the files inside, and ran out the back door.
Whatever this was — it was bigger than my grief, deeper than my anger. Someone didn’t just kill my mother. They erased her.
Now they were trying to erase me too.
But I wasn’t my mother.
And I wasn’t running anymore.
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Chapter Eight — The Bloodline
(Lior’s POV)
The elevator carried me to the top floor of Mavick Tower — forty-two stories above the city that we built and bled for. The air up here always felt heavier, quieter, like even the walls had learned to listen.
When the doors opened, the scent of cigars and old paper greeted me.
He was already there.
Victor Mavick.
My father.
Chairman of the Mavick Corporation. Founder of the Eden Project. And the man who’d taught me, from the time I could walk, that truth was a luxury only the dead could afford.
He stood by the window, his reflection blurred against the city lights. His cane rested against the desk — a silver serpent wrapped around its handle. He didn’t turn when he spoke.
“Your silence has been… inconsistent lately.”
I said nothing.
He turned then, and his pale eyes found mine. “She’s back.”
I nodded once.
“Adira,” he said, tasting the name like venom. “She looks like her mother.”
I kept my face neutral. “She’s only here to settle the estate.”
He smiled faintly. “And yet, she broke into our archives.”
That caught me off guard — he already knew. He always knew.
“She’s not the threat,” I said quietly.
“Everyone is a threat, Lior. Especially the ones who ask why.”
He stepped closer, each tap of his cane echoing like a countdown. “Do you remember what we agreed to, when the fire happened?”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
My voice dropped to a whisper. “No one speaks of Eden.”
“Good.”
He studied my face for a long time. “You’ve always had a soft spot for that woman’s child. I allowed it because I thought it would fade.”
“It has.”
“Has it?” His eyes narrowed. “Because if it hasn’t, son, you’ll burn for her too.”
He reached into his coat pocket and tossed a small black envelope onto the desk.
“Open it.”
Inside was a photograph — taken from a street camera only hours ago.
Adira. Standing outside her apartment, a shadow watching her from across the road.
“I had someone keep an eye on her,” Victor said. “Imagine my surprise when I found out that someone was you.”
I froze. “That’s not—”
“Don’t lie to me.” His voice cut through the air, calm and deadly. “If she finds the facility, she’ll find the bodies. And when she finds the bodies, the city finds us.”
He turned back to the window.
“Do your duty, Lior. You know what happens to loose ends.”
I stared at him — the man who had given me everything and taken everything from me.
And for the first time, I saw it clearly.
He wasn’t just trying to protect the family name.
He was protecting something else.
Something even darker.
As I left his office, his final words followed me like a curse:
> “If she reminds you too much of her mother… then finish what the fire couldn’t.”
-Chapter Nine — The Ruins Beneath
(Adira’s POV)
The road to the city’s edge was silent.
Not the kind of silence that brings peace — the kind that waits. The kind that knows you’re trespassing.
Velora’s skyline faded behind me as the buildings thinned into stretches of cracked asphalt and rusted warehouses. The coordinates led me here — to the old Eden Industrial District, shut down after a chemical collapse fifteen years ago.
Or so the story went.
The gate was chained shut, but someone had already broken the lock. The metal hung loose, like an invitation.
I stepped through.
Inside, the air smelled of dust, oil, and something faintly metallic — almost like blood. The factory’s name, Eden Biotech, still clung to the side of the building in faded silver letters.
I switched on my flashlight. The beam caught shards of glass, overturned tables, and papers littering the floor — blueprints, invoices, old lab reports.
All burned around the edges.
The deeper I went, the colder it became. The walls were lined with numbered doors — C-12, C-13, C-14 — each sealed with rusted locks. The silence was thick enough to press against my ribs.
At the end of the corridor, one door stood half-open.
C-19.
I hesitated, then pushed it.
The smell hit first — chemical, damp, stale. Inside was a room frozen in time. Machines sat dormant under sheets of dust. Test tubes lined the counters, and on one wall, a series of photos were pinned in neat rows.
People.
Dozens of them.
Each labeled with a code number and the word “Subject.”
My hand trembled as I lifted one.
It was a woman — frail, eyes closed, a mark behind her ear shaped like a crescent.
Below her image was a note: “Successful integration — sample holds.”
I swallowed hard and moved to the next.
And then my breath caught.
The woman in the photo looked like my mother.
No — not exactly. Younger, thinner. But her face… her eyes.
The caption below read:
> “Subject 09-A: Mara. Terminated — Phase 2 Failure.”
The floor tilted beneath me.
She wasn’t just an employee. She was one of them.
A subject.
The flashlight flickered, and for a second, I thought I saw movement in the corner of the room — a faint outline, like someone watching. I spun around.
Nothing.
Then — a whisper.
Low. Broken. Close.
> “Adira…”
I froze.
The sound came again, from behind the metal door at the far end of the lab.
> “Adira… run…”
My chest tightened. My mind screamed to move, but my feet stayed rooted.
That voice — it sounded just like her.
I reached for the handle. The metal burned cold under my fingers. I pulled.
The door groaned open an inch — then a flood of stale air rushed out, heavy and sharp.
Inside, the light from my flashlight caught something glinting — glass, liquid, and faint movement.
Tanks.
Rows of them.
And inside each… figures.
Suspended. Silent.
Human.
I staggered back, the beam shaking wildly as it caught fragments of faces, eyes half-open, skin pale as porcelain. Some of them had the same crescent mark behind their ear.
And then, one of the tanks released a slow hiss.
Condensation cleared just enough for me to see the face behind the glass.
Her face.
My mother’s.
Eyes open.
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- Writer
