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His words dug deep, touching a part of me that yearned for a life without the burdens of the power I held.
A life where Violet and I could simply be.
But as enticing as the promise sounded, a voice in the back of my mind screamed at me not to trust him.
We had trusted Ikhax before, and he had betrayed us.
There was no guarantee he wouldn’t do the same again.
And the thought of relinquishing the plasma — the plasma that might fall into the wrong hands and be weaponized — sent chills down my spine.
My gift, or curse, depending on how you looked at it, was both a blessing and a responsibility.
Ikhax seemed to sense my internal turmoil. “It’s a tempting offer, isn’t it? Just relax. Let the machine do its work, and it will all be over soon.”
He stepped behind the machine’s controls, his fingers dancing over the intricate array of buttons and levers.
I locked eyes with Violet, sensing the fear and uncertainty in her gaze.
I squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Close your eyes,” I whispered, my voice filled with determination. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
She nodded, tears glistening in her eyes, but she squeezed my hand back with equal force.
Then, she closed her eyes, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.
A deafening hum filled the room as the machine roared to life.
I could feel its pull, its insistent tug on the energy within me.
It was as though a thousand hooks had embedded themselves in my core, trying to wrench the plasma from me.
Ikhax’s manic laughter was nearly drowned out by the cacophony.
My vision started to blur, but I focused on the sensation of Violet’s hand in mine, drawing strength from our connection.
It was happening.
The extraction.
Every fiber of my being screamed in protest, but there was no escaping the relentless force of the machine.
Yet, amidst the pain and chaos, a single, coherent thought crystallized in my mind.
No matter what happens, no matter the cost, I will protect Violet.
As the machine’s hum reached a fever pitch, the world faded to black.
With Violet’s hand in mine, and the weight of my decisions bearing down on me, the machine activated, and the extraction began.
* * *
Every nerve ending in my body screamed.
My very essence, the plasma that had coursed through my veins, was being pulled out, and with it, fragments of memories, emotions, and experiences.
It felt like being emptied, hollowed out, one memory, one moment at a time.
There was no way to describe the agony — it was as if my very soul was being siphoned out.
