CHAPTER 2
Aria sat on the edge of the pristine examination bed, her feet dangling above the glossy white floor. The room was eerily quiet, save for the soft hum of machinery and the occasional beep from wall-mounted monitors.
The scent of antiseptic was sharp in the air, stinging her nose. Despite the warmth of the room, she couldn't stop the shiver that danced down her spine.
Across the room, a tall man in a white lab coat studied a holographic screen intently.
He looked young—early thirties maybe—with dark hair that curled slightly at the edges and intelligent eyes that flicked across her medical report like he was reading the most fascinating mystery.
He turned to her finally, his expression unreadable.
"Miss Aria Edwards, right?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Yes. Are the scans all right? Did something come up?"
He smiled gently, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
"Nothing alarming. But your physiology is... unusual. Fascinating, really."
Aria blinked. "Unusual how?"
Instead of answering directly, he walked over and handed her a glass filled with a pink, creamy liquid. It looked like strawberry milk but had a faint iridescent shimmer.
"This is a nutritional supplement we administer to new interns. Helps with the acclimation process," he said.
"Smooth transition."
Aria hesitated. "Is this required?"
"It’s highly recommended," he replied, voice soft but with an edge of authority.
"You fainted earlier. This will help stabilize your vitals."
Reluctantly, she took a sip.
The taste surprised her—sweet, smooth, with a hint of vanilla and something floral she couldn't identify.
Almost instantly, warmth spread through her limbs, washing away the chill and grounding her.
"That’s... surprisingly good," she admitted.
"Told you," he said with a small, almost knowing smile.
"I’m Dr. Justin. I’ll be overseeing your internship. Welcome to the Biological Research Institute."
The days that followed were stranger than Aria ever imagined.
Every morning, she was summoned to the med bay for a personal check-up—temperature, blood pressure, reflex response, and sometimes blood work.
It became routine, though no other interns seemed to follow the same procedure. She asked once, out of curiosity.
"Hey Mia," Aria said, trying to sound casual as she rolled down her sleeve.
"Do you get morning check-ups too?"
Mia, a quiet girl with thin glasses and nervous energy, looked startled.
"Me? No. Just the basic entry test on the first day. Why?"
Aria forced a laugh.
"Oh. Must be some new protocol. I keep getting called in."
Mia didn’t reply; she just gave her a hesitant smile and walked off a little too quickly.
Then there was the milk.
Always pink.
Always waiting for her in the staff lounge fridge with her name handwritten on a label. She had assumed everyone drank it.
"Your supplement," Dr. Justin would remind her each day.
"Consistency is key."
Until one day, she saw a fellow intern, Lewis, pour a clear, water-like liquid into a cup.
"That your supplement?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said, glancing over.
"Tastes like nothing. Why?"
She looked at her opaque, pastel drink.
"Mine’s... different."
Lewis squinted. "You sure it’s the same stuff?"
She didn’t answer.
It was around this time she noticed the glances—covert, calculating, like she was under some unspoken microscope.
The others were friendly and polite, but there was a distance. As if they were waiting for something.
One afternoon, while exploring the west corridor of the lab,
Aria stumbled across a vast cryo-display built into the wall. Suspended inside was a set of massive wings.
Dragon wings, if she had to guess—scaled, membranous, tipped with claws.
The plaque beneath read:
DRACO MAGNA – Specimen 001 – Declared Extinct
But it didn’t look extinct. The wings were preserved in perfect detail, glistening with condensation.
They looked... alive.
A voice spoke from beside her.
"They belonged to the last of its kind. Or so we thought."
She was startled, turning to see Dr. Justin watched her with a contemplative gaze.
"It looks so real," she whispered.
"We believe in preserving what matters," he said, his voice carrying an undercurrent of something darker.
The next morning, he handed her a clipboard without a word. Written on it was a request for her to accompany him to Sublevel 4 for advanced sampling.
"Why me again?" she asked, following him down the corridor.
Dr. Justin’s eyes stayed forward.
"Your case is... special. We want to ensure everything is as it should be."
They reached the lift at the far end of the corridor. She had never seen this section before—no signs, no security panel.
Only a biometric scanner and a steel door.
The scanner beeped, and the doors slid open. Inside, the lift was unlike the others—lined in dark metal, illuminated with blue strips of light.
As they descended, Aria noticed the gouges on the walls.
Deep, ragged scratches, claw marks embedded into solid steel.
She stepped back instinctively.
"What could’ve done that?"
Dr. Justin was silent for a moment. Then:
"Earlier subjects. Less compliant."
Her pulse quickened.
"Subjects? I thought this was a research internship."
"It is," he replied calmly.
"But there are layers to our work. You’ll come to understand."
The lift jerked to a stop. The doors opened onto a dim corridor bathed in red emergency lights.
Frost clung to the walls, and a low hiss sounded from unseen vents. A sterile, metallic smell filled the air.
Aria stepped out hesitantly.
"What is this place?"
Dr. Justin placed a firm hand on her shoulder.
"Stay close. And whatever happens—don’t run."
They moved deeper into the corridor. Glass pods lined one side, most covered in frost. Inside some, she glimpsed silhouettes—too large to be human, too grotesque to be anything she recognized.
One of the pods rattled as they passed.
She froze. "Is it... alive?"
Dr. Justin didn’t answer.
He led her into a circular chamber with monitors arranged in a ring. A single chair sat in the centre, with restraints.
"Please, sit. We’ll just draw a few samples."
"From me? Again?" she asked, alarm creeping into her voice.
"Yes. You've shown exceptional biological markers. Unprecedented even."
"You still haven’t explained what makes me so... special."
He studied her with unsettling calm.
"You came to us, not through any known academy. Your records appeared days before your arrival. Your blood holds properties we’ve never documented—mild regenerative capability and unusual cellular structure. You’re not just an intern, Aria. You’re a mystery."
Her hands trembled.
"I want answers."
He leaned closer.
"And you’ll get them. But first—we need to finish the tests."
As the needle gleamed under the surgical light, Aria realized something terrifying:
She hadn’t just stumbled into the future.
She had been chosen for it.
And the mystery of the pink milk was only the beginning.