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The spinning intensified, pushing the limits of my endurance.
I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, a frantic rhythm that fought to keep up with the machine’s unending cycle.
The world spun faster and faster until it was a whirl of colors and light.
My senses overwhelmed, I felt consciousness slipping from my grasp, like sand through fingers.
As darkness started to cloud my vision, I reached out for Ellie, her image flickering like a candle in the wind.
“N… Nothing…” I managed to say, but in reality knew what was before my eyes was not nothing.
It was everything.
With a final, desperate grasp at her smiling face, I let myself surrender to the darkness.
The last thing I remember is the feel of the warm sand beneath my feet, and Ellie’s laughter, echoing in the back of my mind.
* * *
The world was still spinning when the guards roughly threw me back into my cell.
The harsh impact against the cold, hard floor did nothing to dispel the disorientation.
My body felt heavy, as if I were dragging a thousand suns with each breath.
My muscles ached with an intensity that bordered on unbearable, every twitch sending spasms of pain radiating through my frame.
There was a figure moving towards me, a silhouette against the dim light seeping into the cell.
I could smell her before I saw her — the faint scent of lilacs and fresh rain, a scent so different from the sterile, metallic stink of the prison that it felt like an illusion.
“Ceara,” Ellie’s voice was soft, filled with concern.
I could barely register it, my senses still reeling from the experiment.
She reached out to me, her touch feather-light against my arm.
I recoiled instinctively, my muscles protesting the sudden movement.
My hands found purchase on the floor, the cold, rough surface a grounding anchor amid the disarray.
“No,” I grumbled, shoving her away.
I didn’t need her pity, her sympathy.
I had to do this on my own.
Especially when I wasn’t sure if she was part of the Supervisor’s plan or not.
With a grunt, I pushed myself up, my legs trembling under the strain.
Each step felt like a monumental effort, my limbs heavy and uncooperative.
I could taste the coppery tang of blood in my mouth, a reminder of the injuries I had sustained.
I could feel the sting of fresh cuts and the throbbing pain of deeper wounds.
But the physical pain was nothing compared to the gnawing emptiness within.
