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His vile sick dove

I couldn’t tell where reality ended and the nightmare began. I blinked, looking around, my thoughts muddled, my senses strangely sharpened. I was in the lab again, though something about it was different, darker. The walls were hazy, the lights dimmer, and the sound of my own breathing echoed around me.

And he was there. Standing just on the other side of the tank’s glass, waiting.

My heart slammed in my chest as I watched him, the memories of last night’s dream crashing over me like waves. He was here again, closer, and my mind raced with questions. What are you? Why are you here? How do you know me?

But as he looked at me, none of those questions seemed to matter. He gazed at me as if he knew everything—like my thoughts were open to him, my fears laid bare, as if he owned me already.

“Why do you look at me like that?” I whispered, barely aware that I’d spoken.

His eyes sparkled with something dark, something dangerously close to amusement. The way he looked at me—it was intense, unnerving, as though I was something he’d chosen, something precious yet pathetic. A strange thrill twisted through me, a pull I couldn’t ignore, even though it terrified me.

He smiled, slow and chilling, the kind of smile that made my skin prickle with both fear and… something else. Something I didn’t want to admit.

“My vile, sick dove,” he murmured, his voice a dark, honeyed rasp that slid through me, sinking into my bones. Each word was a slow, careful caress, as if he were savoring the sound of it, savoring me.

“Vile… sick… dove?” I repeated, my throat dry, the words foreign on my tongue.

He nodded, his eyes gleaming. “You are drawn to the darkness, little dove, but you don’t know it yet. You search and you pry, hoping to understand, but you will never truly see me for what I am. You’re too weak, too human.”

I clenched my fists, a mix of anger and frustration building in me. “I am not weak. I came here to find answers, to understand you. I—”

He tilted his head, his smile widening, cutting me off with that sickly-sweet gaze. “And what do you think you’ve found, dove? What answer would satisfy you?”

I wanted to scream, to tell him that I was here to study, to understand this creature and his world. But the words felt hollow, false. I didn’t even know what I was looking for anymore. All I knew was that I couldn’t look away.

“You’re… you’re not like anything I’ve seen,” I managed, barely a whisper. “You’re not just a creature.”

He took a step closer, the water around him seeming to bend, shift, as if it obeyed his every whim. “What I am, pet, goes beyond your understanding, little one. I am older than the sea itself, more vast than the depths you fear. And yet, here you are… caught in my web.”

My breath hitched, and I felt a shiver creep down my spine. The way he spoke, his words soft and venomous, each one drawing me further in. He was toying with me, pulling at every thread of my curiosity, my fear, my desire.

“You call me… your pet?” I whispered, barely able to say it out loud.

He laughed, a low, dark sound that made my stomach twist. “Yes, my vile, sick dove. You are a creature of curiosity, of hidden darkness, yet you pretend you are pure. I see through you.”

I swallowed, trying to keep my voice steady. “I am not yours. I’m here to understand you, to study you.”

“Study me?” His voice was a silky murmur, like a dark lullaby. He pressed his hand against the glass, his gaze searing into me, pinning me in place. “What will you study, little pet? The mind that can twist yours? The power that can break you? I am not here for your understanding. I am here for you.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, sinking deep into my chest. His eyes held me captive, dark and endless, filled with something beyond any emotion I’d ever known. Something old, something powerful, something that saw me as no more than an insect, a curiosity to be toyed with.

And yet… I was drawn to it. To him.

“Why do you call me vile?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Because I see you,” he said, his tone both cruel and tender. “I see the dark in you, little pet. The part of you that wants to touch the unknown, the murky bits, the greedy bits, the all consuming bits. The part of you that is mine.”

His hand pressed harder against the glass, and I felt it—his presence wrapping around me, like the weight of the ocean, dark and suffocating. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, only feel the force of him, the hunger in his gaze, as though he could devour me with a look.

“Submit to me, and I will give you answers,” he whispered, his words sliding over me like silk, sweet and deadly.

I felt my body tremble, my mind trapped in a whirlwind of fear and desire, caught between wanting to run and wanting to give in. But I forced myself to step back, to break the spell.

“You… you don’t control me,” I said, though my voice was barely a whisper, a feeble protest.

He only smiled, as if amused by my defiance. “Not yet, my vile, sick dove. But you will return to me. You always will.”

And then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he faded into shadow, dissolving into the darkness around me. The lab was empty, silent. My heart pounded as I stood there, alone, his words echoing in my mind, lingering like the touch of his gaze.

You are mine.

A loud, blaring sound ripped me from the dream, pulling me back into harsh reality.

My eyes flew open, and I found myself lying on the cold floor, inches from the tank. The alarm blared overhead, flashing lights casting eerie shadows on the walls. Around me, the crew members were shouting, running back and forth as if the entire lab was on the verge of collapse.

I pushed myself up, disoriented, the dream still clinging to me like a fog. But as I looked around, I realized this was no dream.

“What… what’s happening?” I muttered, rubbing my temples as I tried to make sense of the chaos.

Mira ran past me, clutching a tablet, her face pale. “The water pressure outside has spiked. The ocean’s going haywire—storms, currents, everything’s off the charts. It’s not safe out there.”

“What?” My heart skipped a beat, the confusion and lingering terror from the dream blending with the panic around me. “How… how did I get here?”

“Lila!” Dr. Graves’ voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. He strode toward me, looking both annoyed and eager, as if the chaos was more of an inconvenience than a danger. “Get up. We have work to do.”

“But, Dr. Graves,” I began, trying to make him understand, “the ocean—it’s not stable. If we continue, we could risk everyone on board. The pressure alone—”

He held up a hand, dismissing my concerns with a cold smile. “Dr. Monroe, we’re on the brink of something unprecedented. The risks are a small price to pay for history.”

“But we don’t know what’s causing it,” I argued, my voice rising in desperation. “This could be connected to the creature—we don’t know how powerful he really is. Maybe this is a sign to stop, to reassess—”

Dr. Graves scoffed, shaking his head. “A sign? Really, Dr. Monroe. I expected more professionalism from you. We have the creature contained, sedated. Whatever’s happening out there is irrelevant to our work.”

His eyes gleamed with a dark, greedy light, and I felt a chill creep down my spine. He didn’t care about the danger, about the lives on board. All he cared about was his prize, the chance to leave his mark on history, no matter the cost.

I opened my mouth to protest again, but the words died on my lips. What was the point? He wouldn’t listen. He never listened, not when it came to something he could control, something he could bend to his will.

I glanced at the tank, the creature’s form still floating, his face serene, almost peaceful. But the dream lingered in my mind, his words echoing like a taunt, like a warning.

You are mine.

For a brief, terrifying moment, I wondered if he could really control the sea, if he was somehow causing the chaos around us. The pressure spike, the storms—could it all be connected to him?

After all, this wasn’t the first time strange, powerful beings had emerged from places humanity wasn’t meant to tread. In my lifetime, we’d discovered whole species that bordered on the supernatural—creatures with abilities that defied our understanding. There were the “night-gliders” in the northern skies, their luminescent wings slicing through clouds like knives.

And the “sand-shifters” out in the desert, who could burrow deep enough to stay hidden until they wanted to be found.

Our governments had devised endless regulations to keep us “safe” from these beings, enforcing quarantines, lockdowns, even military operations when necessary. Contamination was always a looming threat—humans exposed to these creatures often came back… altered.

Even the team here was operating under strict surveillance, every sample, every breath taken under government guidelines. The labs back on the mainland had protocols in place to deal with contamination, biological shifts, and mutations that couldn’t be explained by human science. We knew better than to ignore the unknown. Yet somehow, I was starting to feel that none of those rules or safeguards could protect us from what lay in that tank. He felt different—ancient, like something beyond our definitions or regulations.

But Dr. Graves wasn’t interested in questions. He only wanted results.

“Prepare for the next round of tests,” he ordered, turning away from me without a second glance. “We’re moving forward.”

I watched him walk away, a bitter taste in my mouth, my heart pounding with a strange mix of anger and fear. He was putting us all at risk, chasing something he couldn’t even understand.

And as I looked back at the creature, at the shadows that seemed to curl around him, I felt a creeping sense of dread settle over me.

Maybe I was the only one who understood what we were dealing with.

But maybe it was already too late.

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