The Anomaly's Path

The door opened and darkness spilled out from the room beyond, thick and cold, and I felt my heart sink into my chest.

The darkness was not empty. There was something in it.

Someone.

From the shadows, a figure emerged.

She walked with hesitant steps, her bare feet making no sound on the stone floor, her movements slow and uncertain, as if she had forgotten how to walk and was teaching herself again with every step.

I knew who it was. My breath caught in my throat.

"...Mia."

She stepped into the pale green light of the torches, and the world stopped.

Her dress was torn and stained, hanging off her thin frame in ragged strips that barely covered her body. The fabric was discolored with layers of old blood. The hem was frayed and uneven, and one of the straps had broken, leaving the dress to slip off her shoulder.

Her arms hung at her sides, limp and lifeless, and I could see the marks on them. Needle punctures tracked up from her wrists to her shoulders, some fresh and red, some old and scarred, layer after layer of pain that had been carved into her skin.

There were burn marks too, small and circular, scattered across her forearms.

Her toes were bruised, the nails cracked and dirty, and there were dark circles under her eyes so deep that they looked like bruises that had never been given the chance to heal. Her hair, once black and shiny, was matted and dull, clinging to her scalp in greasy strands that had not been washed in weeks.

However... it was her face that made me forget how to breathe.

Her skin was pale, so pale that it looked almost grey, stretched thin over the bones of her cheeks and her jaw.

The veins beneath her temples were visible, blue and branching, pressed close to the surface like they were trying to escape. Her lips were cracked and dry, with dried blood in the corners and along the seam where they pressed together.

Dark circles ringed her eyes, deep and purple, like she had not slept in months.

...And her eyes.

They were open, but they were not looking at me. They were unfocused and distant, empty in a way that made my chest ache with pain. The earth slipped from beneath my feet. My heart sank into my stomach. My hands started shaking, and I could not make them stop.

"...Mia?" I said again, and my voice cracked.

She did not respond. She just stood there, swaying slightly, her hollow eyes distant.

I took a step toward her.

Behind me, Voss laughed. I turned to look at him. He was standing by the door he had come through. His dark eyes were gleaming, and his smile was wide, showing his jagged and stained teeth.

"Isn’t she perfect?" he said. "My perfect art. My perfect vessel."

I did not answer. My grip tightened on Tempest.

"Look at her," he said. "Look at what I have created. Immortal and unbreakable. She will not die, no matter how many times you cut her. Her body will heal. Her limbs will regrow. She will keep fighting until her enemies are nothing but blood on the floor and ash in the air."

"..."

"I perfected her." Voss tilted his head, his manic eyes never leaving my face. "She was always special, your little Mia. Her soul is different from the others. More flexible and resilient. I pushed her to her limits, and she did not break. I pushed her past her limits, and still, she did not break."

He laughed again, a dry and rasping sound that made my skin crawl.

"So I stopped trying to break her. I made her into something new and better. Something eternal."

I felt rage, cold and suffocating, eclipse my fear. In a blur, I lunged, slamming Voss against the stone wall. The stone cracked behind him, and dust rained down from the ceiling. His eyes went wide, but his smile did not fade. It stayed on his face like a scar that would never heal.

"What did you do to her?" I pressed the words through clenched teeth, my hand crushing his collar.

"I told you," he said, still smiling. "I made her immortal. I made her perfect. I made her—"

I slammed him against the wall again. His head snapped back, and blood dripped from his lip, but he kept smiling.

"You cannot hurt me, boy," he said. "She will not let you. She is bound to me. She will protect me. She will kill anyone who tries to harm me."

I looked toward Mia. She had not moved. She was still standing in the same spot, her hollow eyes fixed on nothing, her body swaying slightly from side to side like a branch in a gentle wind.

"She does not even know you are here," Voss said. "She cannot hear you. She cannot see you. She cannot feel anything anymore. She is a weapon. Nothing more."

I threw him across the room.

He hit the far wall with a loud crash, his body crumpling to the floor. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, and he coughed, blood splattering on the stone. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, still smiling.

"Go ahead," he said, his voice weaker but still mocking. "Kill me. But she will never forgive you. She will never even know you tried."

Ignoring him, I turned to Mia. I stood before her, my heart pounding like a trapped bird. "Mia, it’s me. Leo. I came for you."

Nothing. She swayed slightly, her breath shallow and ragged. I reached out to touch her face.

"Don’t bother," Voss called from the floor. "She is not in there anymore. There is nothing left but the soldier I created."

My hand stopped inches from her cheek.

"She is not a person anymore, boy. She is a tool. A weapon. My weapon. And she will obey me, not you. She will kill whoever I tell her to kill. She will destroy whoever I point her toward."

I looked at Voss. He was standing now, leaning against the wall, his hand pressed to his ribs. Blood was dripping from his lip, and there was a cut on his forehead, but his smile was still there.

"I have finally succeeded," he said. "I have created the first immortal soldier. And now, I do not need her anymore. I know how to make more. I know how to make an army."

He pushed himself off the wall and walked toward the door on the far side of the chamber. Without looking back, he said, "I have learned everything I need from her. She is yours now. If you can survive her."

He disappeared through the door, and the darkness swallowed him.

I wanted to chase him. I wanted to grab him by the throat and make him undo everything he had done. But I could not leave Mia. I could not leave her alone in this place.

I turned back to her.

"Mia," I said again.

Then, her head turned. Her hollow eyes focused on me for a fraction of a second, and a whisper escaped her cracked lips, faint yet heavy with agony.

"...Kill... me... it hurts... Leo... so much... Please..." The whisper came again, barely loud enough to hear. "It hurts... Leo... it hurts so much..."

Suddenly, her hand shot out, her grip like iron crushing my wrist, and pulled me toward her. The look in her eyes shifted from recognition to a starving hunger. She swung at my throat. I blocked, the impact jarring my bones, and stumbled back.

She followed, her movements jerky and uncoordinated but fast, too fast. Her fist caught me in the shoulder, and I felt something pop, a sharp pain that radiated down to my fingertips.

"Mia, stop!" I shouted.

She did not stop. She swung again, and I ducked under her arm, spinning away from her. I raised Tempest, but I could not swing it. I could not hurt her. The blade trembled in my hand, and I lowered it.

"Mia, it’s me! Leo!"

Her fist caught me in the chest, and I flew backward, hitting the wall hard. The air left my lungs in a single violent rush, and I slid down to the floor, gasping for breath that would not come. She walked toward me, her bare feet silent on the stone, her hollow eyes fixed on my face.

I pushed myself up and raised my hands, empty and defenseless. "Mia, please. I know you are in there. I know you can hear me."

For a heartbeat, her head tilted. Her eyes flickered.

"Run," she whispered. "Please... run... I cannot... control..."

Then her body jerked as if pulled by invisible strings, and she lunged again. She grabbed the edge of Tempest with her bare hands, black blood dripping down the steel as she drove the point toward my chest.

"...I am sorry," I whispered.

I let go of Tempest. The blade clattered to the floor, and Mia stumbled forward, off balance. I caught her by the shoulders and held her.

"I am not going to fight you," I said. "I am not going to hurt you. I am going to help you."

She struggled against my grip, her hands clawing at my arms, her nails leaving red lines on my skin. But I did not let go. I held her tighter.

"I am here," I said. "I am not leaving."

Slowly, her struggling stopped.

Her body went limp in my arms, and I felt her weight sag against me. Her forehead pressed against my chest, and her breath was hot and ragged against my shirt.

"Leo..." she whispered.

"I am here."

Her hands, which had been clawing at my arms, slowly moved up to my shoulders. Her fingers curled into my shirt, clutching the fabric like a lifeline.

"It hurts," she whispered. "It hurts so much."

"I know," I said. "I am going to make it stop. I promise."

She looked up at me. Her eyes were still hollow, still unfocused, but there was something else in them now. Something that might have been the last flicker of the girl I had known.

"Kill me," she said. "Please. Before I lose myself again."

I shook my head. "No. I am going to save you."

"You cannot," she said. "He made me into something that cannot be saved. The only way to free me is to kill me. I can feel it. Every moment. Every second. The thing inside me is growing, and I cannot stop it."

"No," I said, reaching up to touch her cheek. "I am going to save you."

The moment I touched her, the world vanished. A bright light swallowed everything. The stone floor and the smell of chemicals were replaced by a soft, biting cold.

I opened my eyes and I was standing in a field of snow.

The ground beneath my boots was soft and white, untouched by footprints. The sky above was grey and heavy, thick with clouds that had not yet decided to snow or stay still. In the distance, a small house stood at the edge of a frozen pond, smoke curling from its chimney, thin and grey against the pale sky.

I turned, and a small figure passed by me.

A girl, no older than seven, with long black hair and bright amber eyes. She was wearing a thick coat and boots, and she was carrying a wooden bucket filled with snow. Her cheeks were red from the cold, and her breath made small clouds in the air.

She walked past me without looking at me, and I watched her go.

Is this Mia’s memory? Am I inside her mind?

The girl stopped in front of the house. She set down the bucket and looked up at the sky, at the grey clouds, at the snow beginning to fall.

"Mama," she said. "Papa. When are you coming home?"

The snow fell on the girl, and she shivered.

....And the world around me began to shift.