Chapter 29
Seph
The lab was just as horrifying today.
Worse, actually. The vials lined up beside me shimmered in different colours, each liquid shifting with its own unnatural energy.
I took my seat without complaint this time in the stark white clean room. Dr Marr stood across from me in full specialist gear and gloves, like he didn’t want to risk even the brush of my skin.
He wasn’t a stupid man.
“We have a special treat planned today, Miss Quinn,” Dr Marr said, voice calm—too calm.
“You aren’t injecting me with those.”
It came out sharp. Immediate. Instinctive.
He paused, the corner of his mouth tilting, almost amused.
“Oh, Miss Quinn. No, I have no intention of injecting you. I’m not here to hurt you, regardless of what you may believe me capable of.” His gaze drifted to the vials. “Though I do require you to pay them some… attention.”
He gestured to a second tray filled with identical glass cylinders.
“What are they?” I asked.
He smiled broadly and tapped the side of his nose. “We’ll get to that later. But first, I’ll need you to remove your gloves.”
I tensed.
“No.”
“Miss Quinn,” he said gently, “I can do this with your assistance or without, but I would much rather have your cooperation.”
“Why?” I demanded. “Why do you need them off?”
Dr Marr sighed, like I was the one being difficult.
“Miss Quinn, I would imagine this to be preferable to the alternative.”
“What do you mean?”
Instead of answering, he reclined slightly and pressed a button on the remote beside his chair.
The wall across from us began to descend, revealing a row of screens—each one showing a different room in Chao Block.
“What the fuck?”
“These,” Dr Marr said pleasantly, “are some of the subjects we currently have in Ward A. Every individual you see is classified as highly dangerous and deeply volatile.”
My stomach lurched when one of the screens flickered clearer.
Ash.
He was hooked up to a machine, running on a treadmill—running without pause, without fatigue, like stopping wasn’t an option. Clear tubes fed into his arms, each pulse sending another dose of fluid into his bloodstream.
His eyes were glazed.
His lip curled with agitation.
“What the hell are you doing to him?” I demanded.
“Mr Lyconis, in particular, is an interesting specimen,” Dr Marr replied, tone shifting into clinical recital.
“His air magic rates high on the Light scale—sixty-seven L—but his antisocial tendencies are… difficult. This routine regulates his energy and channels it into something productive. Exercise.”
“And his eyes?” I stabbed a finger toward the screen. “He’s drugged.”
“Of course.” Marr looked genuinely perplexed at my outrage. “Without drugs, Ash would be uncontrollable. This stabilises him.”
“Drugging fixes nothing!”
“Perhaps you’re right, Miss Quinn.” His voice remained maddeningly mild. “But at the moment, drugs are our only option to contain the threat of strong powers in the hands of… unstable users. Consider the impact of schizophrenia on a young woman like Miss Ambrose here.”
He pointed to another screen—Amelia.
She stood motionless, staring at her wall as if it held all the answers. Her thin hands clutched her stuffed rabbit.
Then, without warning, she launched herself at the wall, screaming.
I flinched hard.
Dr Marr gestured calmly toward the vials beside me.
“Each of these contains an extracted sample of magical essence from one of our subjects. With your assistance, we may be able to remove the danger they pose—to others and to themselves—and help them reintegrate into society in a far safer manner.”
“As Nulls,” I said flatly. “You want me to take their powers.”
“Surely you can see,” he replied, smiling faintly, “that this is the more preferable choice.”
I shook my head, stomach rolling.
“That’s not fair! It’s not up to me—or you—who gets to keep their powers or not!”
“Of course it is!” he insisted, almost delighted by my outrage. “Miss Quinn, look around you. This world is twisted by powers, all in the wrong hands. Together, we can fix this. You and me. We can help everyone.”
“Help them?” I choked out. “By stealing from them? By burning the magic out of their blood? How can you not see how sick that is?”
Dr Marr’s expression didn’t change—if anything, it became emptier.
“Then perhaps,” he said softly, “we attempt this the more direct way.”
He reached over and pressed a button on the intercom.
“Mr Lyconis, you can stop now.”
My heart lurched.
“No.”
On the monitor, Ash slowed, stumbling as techs stepped forward to disconnect the tubes from his arms. The drugs were still leaving his system—his pupils blown wide, breath coming hard.
“Matthew,” Dr Marr said, voice smooth. “Bring Mr Lyconis to my office.”
“No!” I screamed.
On the screen, the tech froze mid-reach.
Ash lifted his head, blinking blearily toward the camera, trying to orient on the voice—on me.
“Dr Marr?” Matthew asked over the feed, uncertain.
Dr Marr didn’t answer him.
He just stared at me.
Waiting.
Letting the threat breathe.
Letting it sink deep into my bones.
He waited for my decision.
“I won’t hurt him. I refuse,” I whispered, shaking.
Marr smiled softly, like he’d known what my answer would be all along.
“So then, Miss Quinn… what’s your choice?”
I stared back at him, hating this man with every fibre of my being.
And slowly—because I had no choice—I began to remove my gloves.
Dr Marr’s smile sharpened. He pushed the tray toward me and pressed the intercom button.
“Cancel that last, thank you, Matthew. I have things under control.”
The tension in my chest twisted.
On the screens, the tech stepped back.
Ash lowered his head, dazed, unaware of how close he’d come to being used against me.
I turned to the vials.
Each one was labelled: Air. Water. Earth. Fire. Shadow. Spirit.
I could feel them—the power in them—even through the glass. It prickled along my skin, tugging at the edge of something deep inside me.
Dr Marr leaned in, eyes glittering as he inspected the tray.
Finally, he selected a vial and held it up between us.
“Let’s start with fire.”