Chapter 35
JILLIAN
They call it a containment chamber.
But it’s not. Not really.
It’s a cage made of lies and lullabies. Of rot pretending to be beauty.
They don't lock me in with steel or glass. No, that would’ve been too merciful—too human. This thing… this place they’ve made… it grows.
The walls aren’t walls. They’re living. Shimmering. Threaded with crystal and pulsating spore-veins that thrum like veins under translucent skin. The air smells sweet. Rotten. Like overripe fruit gone sticky with time.
It’s a throne room, and I’m its prisoner.
And the fungus? It sings.
Soft. Constant. A lullaby of madness. The spore-song is stronger here—closer to its source. No words, just… suggestion. Like it’s whispering right inside my skull, promising everything I never asked for. Peace. Belonging. An end to choices.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood.
It grounds me for a second.
Then Ciampa steps into the chamber—and the sound almost wins.
He doesn’t walk anymore.
He glides.
His feet are bare, skin split with lines of luminous fungus. His face is half gone, eaten away or… absorbed. It doesn’t matter. The eyes that remain are clear. Too clear. Too calm. And around his neck, the crystal has grown into something resembling a collar—ornamental, almost regal.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks.
I don’t answer.
He walks in slow circles around me, hands folded like he’s conducting a sermon.
“You’re fighting so hard, Jillian. And for what? Fear? Individuality?” He smiles. “Soon, you’ll join us. You’ll see how beautiful it all is.”
I shake my head. “You’re insane.”
“No,” he says softly. “I’m free. We all are.”
Behind him, I see Darwin standing silent at the edge of the room. Eyes blank. Hands clasped.
I turn away before I can fall apart.
The song gets louder.
It pulses through the floor, through my bones. I can feel it rewiring me, inch by inch. Thoughts blur. Memory frays. Time slips sideways. I forget where I am. Who I am.
Jillian.
I mouth my name. Then again. Then again.
Jillian. Jillian. Jillian.
It’s not enough.
Something’s cracking in me, and I don’t know if I’ll survive it.
And then—
A sound.
Louder than the song.
A detonation.
Metal screams. Doors explode off hinges. Screaming. Roaring.
And a voice—my name.
“JILLIAN!”
I sob. Not from fear.
From recognition.
And then I see him.
Maug.
He storms into the chamber like a god of fury, fire in his eyes, blood already staining his claws. Behind him, bodies fall—infected guards torn apart like paper dolls. The spore-crystals on the walls pulse violently, reacting to him, the song stuttering.
Ciampa turns, laughing.
“You’re too late,” he says, raising his arms. “She’s already fading. She’ll never choose you over the truth.”
But Maug doesn’t even look at him.
His eyes are on me.
And for a moment… the whole world stops.
He charges the barrier.
The crystal shrieks on contact. Electricity arcs through the lattice, sparking off his flesh. He grits his teeth, claws digging in. Steam rises from his arms. I scream his name as the shock tears through him—
And then—
Blood.
It splashes against the chamber floor.
Dark. Heavy. Real.
It soaks into the seams of the crystalline wall.
And the crystal… reacts.
It hisses.
A fissure forms where his blood touches. A web of cracks races outward, shimmering with heat. The spore-veins writhe in confusion.
I feel it—the song faltering.
I crawl forward on shaking limbs.
My hand touches the blood.
And clarity slams back into me like a tidal wave.
The song dies.
Just for me.
Like a radio switched off in my skull.
I breathe—really breathe—for the first time in hours.
And I remember everything.
He’s still pressing against the barrier, teeth bared in pain, body twitching under the current.
I throw myself forward, palm smearing more of his blood across the wall.
The cracks widen.
The song wails in protest.
And then—
The crystal melts.
It collapses into ash and smoke, the structure failing all at once. I fall through it into his arms. His body is shaking, skin blistered, breath ragged. But he catches me.
“Jillian,” he rasps.
And I know—no matter what comes next—I’m not alone.
Not anymore.