White.
That was the first thing she registered.
Not light—white. Endless, sterile, suffocating white that swallowed depth and direction alike. The walls, the ceiling, the floor… all the same shade, all blending into one another as if the room itself wanted to erase the idea of escape.
She was chained to the floor.
Cold metal bit into her wrists and ankles, the restraints etched with runes that burned faintly every time she tried to move. The ground beneath her was stained—dark, dried blotches layered over fresher ones. Her blood. Always her blood.
Her body ached in places she no longer bothered naming. Bruises bloomed beneath pale skin, some yellowing with age, others still fresh and angry. Cuts crisscrossed her arms and legs like careless signatures left behind by bored hands. Pain was familiar. Almost comforting in its consistency.
Outside the room—behind a one-way mirror she could feel but not see—shadows moved.
People in white and black lab coats walked back and forth, voices low, clipped, efficient. Cables ran from the walls into machines that hummed softly, displaying runes, numbers, waveforms that spiked and dipped with her every breath. Science and magic intertwined in grotesque harmony.
She stared ahead, silver eyes dull but unbroken.
Behind the mirror, a man adjusted his glasses and spoke, irritation barely concealed.
"Have you managed to find out what she did that day?"
He gestured sharply at the glowing displays. "And how the hell another mana signature appeared alongside hers?"
A subordinate stiffened. "Sir… no. We've tried everything. Interrogation. Extraction spells. Psychological pressure." He hesitated. "Torture."
The man's jaw tightened.
"She remained stubborn," the subordinate continued. "She's… used to it. She even spat in one of the technicians' faces."
On the other side of the glass, the girl smiled faintly.
The subordinate swallowed and went on, hurried now. "But—we did find something."
He pulled out a tablet and projected an image into the air.
It showed her lap.
Etched just above her thigh, faint but unmistakable, glowed a blue infinity symbol. Clean. Perfect. Entirely out of place in this world.
The room fell silent.
"We attempted analysis," the subordinate said carefully. "But she resisted. For the first time in a long while, sir. Her mana spiked violently—she almost used it."
The lead scientist's eyes widened. "Almost?"
"We sedated her immediately. If we hadn't… the outcome would've been catastrophic."
He hesitated again. "None of our instruments can interpret the symbol. Not even partially. It rejects scans. Corrupts readings. It's… not like anything we've ever studied."
The man behind the glass stared at the projection for a long moment.
Then he spoke, voice cold, final.
"Torture her more. She'll break eventually."
Inside the white room, the door hissed open.
Footsteps echoed—slow, deliberate.
She didn't look up.
A figure entered, clad in black, face obscured by a mask etched with suppression runes. In their hand was an enchanted whip, its surface crawling with light, humming softly as if eager.
The girl lifted her head at last.
Silver eyes met the empty white ahead of her. Her left pupil flared red for the briefest moment—so fast it might have been imagined.
She said nothing.
But deep within her chest, beneath chains and seals and pain layered upon pain, something answered.
And far, far away—
Something else was beginning to stir.