STRANGULATE | Markicest

48 | SHOWMANSHIP

Mark's heart beat faster the closer they got to Antinstine's room.

    "I've never seen Prada so—scared," he muttered, glancing down at Cibil. The hallways were empty, now, and everything seemed too quiet. The noise from the other Evolveds faded into a dull murmur.

    Cibil said nothing. She continued to lead Mark down the halls, her body tense and on edge.

    "Do you... do you think Antinstine did something to him?"

    Cibil stopped in the middle of the hallway. Mark stumbled to a stop, jumping when she glared up at him.

    "There's something deeper going on here than my visions have given me," she said, voice hushed and cut-throat. "I don't know what, yet, but..." Her mind seemed to race for a moment, and in the next second, she shook her head and began walking again.

    "Let me worry about it," she said, and Mark hastily followed after her. "Right now, you need to focus on getting through this... conversation—whatever—that Antinstine wants."

    The way Cibil spoke, Mark noticed, was much more... normal when she was under stress. For a brief moment, he could almost see the kid that she was.

    "He said he saw me," said Mark. He swallowed, catching up with Cibil so he could walk beside her. "Maybe it's about that?"

    Cibil sighed loudly. "Most likely," she said. She shook her head. "You're asking me like I know. I don't."

    She glanced up at him.

    "My visions are the bigger picture of things," she said. "I don't have insight on small things like this."

    Mark swallowed, and he nodded. How relieving, he thought sourly.

They were both silent after that.

    After a while of walking and a few flights of stairs, they reached the most secluded part of the mansion. It was completely quiet now, not a single murmur or nose able to be heard; it made Mark's skin crawl and his heart beat even faster.

    Cibil took a deep breath, and once they began to slow down, Mark knew that they were close.

    "Here," she said softly, stopping in front of a large, ornate door made of gold. "Antinstine's room."

    Every fiber of Mark's being screamed to run away. He stared up at the door, clenching and unclenching his fists, struggling to breathe. When Cibil gently held his hand, he gazed down at her, vision wavering.

    "If he mentions the experiments," she said, gazing at him, "tell him that Celine made you. Not Dark."

    Mark's brows furrowed.

    "Who—?"

    "There's not enough time to explain," she whispered. "You've done well enough as Viper—I know you'll make it out of this one."

    Mark swallowed, and Cibil gave him one last glance. The both of them took a deep breath, and Cibil stepped forward, lifting her hand.

    She knocked three times.

    She stepped back and pulled her hand out of Mark's. They waited there, silent, staring at the door. After a moment, someone cleared their throat from behind the door.

    "Come in," came Antinstine's muffled voice.

    Mark swallowed, and he glanced at Cibil, who nodded. She turned the door knob and pushed the door wide open, revealing the inside of the room.