The Prototype

Chapter 5

Ethan sprinted through the sterile, dimly lit corridors of the lab, his heart pounding as he reached the workstation he and Maia had spent countless hours in. The walls around him felt strangely empty without her, and an ache settled in his chest as he spotted her familiar handwriting scrawled across scattered sheets of paper.

He quickly gathered the notes, his hands shaking as he scanned through her final observations on their work. Each stage of grief was linked to a force of nature, something far stronger and more volatile than they'd imagined. Denial, she'd written, created an intoxicating fog, a barrier obscuring all truth and reason. Anger, the most violent, was embodied in a shocking thunderstorm, blinding and destructive. Bargaining was marked by fierce, desperate winds and tornadoes, forces that twisted reality, bending it to an impossible will. Depression—he swallowed as he read her notes on this one—was the worst of all, a relentless flood that consumed everything. And Acceptance, the last and most dangerous stage, was "the calm before the storm"—a silence that held unknown devastation, an ominous peace waiting to erupt.

Ethan grabbed the papers, clinging to them like they were pieces of her. Without wasting a second, he stuffed them into his bag and made his way out of the lab, feeling a tremor in the ground beneath him. As he stepped outside and closed the building door, a flickering light in the dark caught his attention. He turned, and there, standing only a few feet away, was Maia.

But it wasn't Maia—not as he knew her. She was bathed in a deep, unnatural purple light, her body seeming to pulse with energy, her eyes glowing with an intense, eerie hue that pierced right through him. Her skin was the same, yet she was transformed, every inch of her radiating something otherworldly and fierce, something that defied explanation. She was breathtakingly beautiful, intimidating, inhuman—and still, unmistakably, Maia.

"Maia..." he breathed, barely able to find his voice as a strange blend of fear and fascination took hold of him.

She tilted her head, her gaze sharpening as she studied him. For a brief moment, something familiar flickered in her eyes, and he dared to hope.

"Maia, listen to me," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I don't know how this happened, but I can help you. We can fix this. You and I, we can stop whatever this is."

She blinked, and for a fleeting second, her expression softened, as if she recognized him. But the calm broke, a shudder passing through her as her features twisted with an almost pained intensity.

"No..." she murmured, her voice distorted, echoing with a sound that didn't belong to her alone. "You...you don't understand." Her voice grew colder, her face hardening as she took a step forward. "This was supposed to be my legacy. Our legacy. And they tried to erase me."

"Maia, please!" Ethan said, stepping back, trying to keep his voice steady. "I never wanted this—none of us did. We can work together. I know you're angry, and you have every right to be, but please, don't let it consume you. This isn't you."

Her eyes narrowed, the violet glow intensifying. "This is me now, Ethan. I am beyond you, beyond anyone." Her hand flicked forward, and a crackle of energy burst through the air, sending him stumbling backward, his pulse racing as he realized the depth of her power.

He took one more step back, heart pounding as her expression morphed into something dark and unyielding. In a flash, she raised her hand, the air rippling with the violent energy of the prototype.

Instinctively, Ethan turned and darted back to his car, barely feeling his feet hit the ground as he climbed in and slammed the door shut, turning the ignition with trembling hands. The tires squealed against the pavement as he sped away, watching her silhouette in the rearview mirror until it faded into the distance, an ominous violet glow lingering in the night behind him.

As he finally reached the safety of their home, he parked, hands still gripping the steering wheel tightly. His mind raced, torn between the love he felt for the woman who'd transformed and the dread now filling his thoughts. He glanced back at the notes in the backseat, the papers now his only remaining link to understanding what she'd become.

Inside, he sat down, spreading the notes out before him on the kitchen table, forcing himself to look past his fear and grief. He knew Maia was still in there, somewhere. And somehow, he was going to bring her back. But he also realized, with a deep, hollow ache, that this was only the beginning of the battle for the woman he loved—and perhaps the world itself.