Page 18 of Knot Their Fated M.U.S.E

"Interaction period concluded. Please return behind the safety barrier immediately."

I step back reluctantly, already missing the connection formed through proximity and touch. Sable's silver eyes hold mine as I retreat, something passing between us that requires no verbalization—understanding, alliance, promise.

As the door closes between us, I catch one last glimpse of him returning attention to the monitoring screens, resuming his forced role as arbiter of others' fates while we wait for an opportunity to implement the first stages of rebellion.

His scent lingers with me as I follow the researcher back through security checkpoints—that unique blend of earthy tones that makes me wonder if the outside world carries similar notes of rainfall and aged knowledge and freedom waiting to be discovered.

"—immediateintervention required?—"

Voices penetrate the memory, dragging me reluctantly back toward a present that offers only pain and disorientation.

Hands touch my body with clinical detachment, moving me from padded floor to some other surface that rocks slightly beneath my weight.

"Vitals barely registering. Severe dehydration. Metabolic shutdown imminent."

The words filter through cognitive fog, meaning assembling gradually as systems struggle to process sensory input.

Someone forces my eyelid open, stabbing brightness sending daggers of pain through neural pathways as pupillary response is evaluated with mechanical precision.

"Minimal reactivity. CNS depression advancing beyond sustainable parameters."

A different voice, sharper with authority and frustration.

"Hook her up. Full hydration protocol. Nutrient infusion at maximum concentration. Core temperature support."

"Sir, the Director specifically ordered minimal intervention until?—"

The argument ends with sudden violence—impact of flesh against flesh followed by the distinctive sound of a body hitting the floor.

Then the authoritative voice continues with deadly precision:

"If we lose her, we're all fucked. Understand? She's the only one who figured out the Parazodiac maze the first time through. The only omega who's ever navigated all five sublevels without external guidance."

Something cold enters my arm—the sharp sting of intravenous access followed by spreading coolness of fluids entering collapsed vessels.

"When she solves it again," the voice continues, closer now as if speaking directly above me, "we'll have acquired the most prized alpha no omega has managed to claim in fifty years of systematic attempts."

Darkness pulls at consciousness again, reality becoming increasingly difficult to maintain as systems surrender to exhaustion and depletion.

Through dissolving awareness, I catch fragmentary phrases:

"—recalibrate security protocols?—"

"—subdivision zero remains viable despite extended isolation?—"

"—genetic compatibility markers reaching unprecedented synchronization?—"

Then nothing but blessed silence as consciousness fades completely, carrying me into darkness where neither memory nor present pain can follow.

FOUR

THE SUSPENDED JUDGE

~SABLE~

~Hallelujah (I Don’t Think About You)~

Kevin Olusola

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