I adopted a lab specimen—a lizard hybrid. I raised him with a tenderness that bordered on the sacred, taming the wildness in his blood with soft words and steady hands. Later, the lab reclaimed him by force. As they dragged him away, he screamed, a raw, guttural sound that tore through the sterile hallway. He asked me when he’d see me again. I lied. I whispered, “Just one day.” I didn’t see him again for seven years. When I finally did, he had become the Archon—the supreme commander of the Hybrid Coalition. He was arrogant, cold, and notoriously ruthless. Yet, the moment his eyes landed on me, his composure shattered. A heartbeat later, his thick, snow-white tail lashed out, coiling around my waist and hoisting me off the floor. He stared at me, his face a mask of frozen stone. “That ‘one day’ lasted a lifetime, didn’t it?” 1 On the day of my release, I spent the entire drive staring out the window. The sky over the city was a bruised, heavy grey. A bitter winter wind whipped against the glass, carrying enough grit to make the air feel like sandpaper. Seven years is long enough for the familiar to become alien. The skyline had grown jagged with new steel, and the world I once knew had been overwritten. Sarah, my former mentor, was at the wheel, her voice a constant hum over the heater’s rattle. “I nearly dropped my phone when you called,” she said, glancing at me. “You have no idea how much the world has flipped upside down while you were inside.” “I can see that,” I murmured. “Remember the old Institute? The Eve Project? It’s gone. The Hybrids took power three years ago and tore the place down to the studs. The board of directors? Executed. Every last one of them.” She paused, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. “Elena, are you even listening?” I blinked, pulling myself back from the grey horizon. “Sorry, Sarah. I’m here.” She sighed, her expression softening into something like pity. “You know… if you were still with 0207, things would be different for you.” She bit her lip, a flicker of awe crossing her face. “Though I suppose we have to call him ‘His Excellency the Archon’ now.” 2 The string of numbers—0207—sent a dull ache through my chest. It had been a lifetime since I’d heard his designation. “0207” had been a specimen. Back then, I was a lead researcher at the prestigious Eve Institute. 0207 was the first project I ever handled from the beginning. He was a lizard-type hybrid, a complex cocktail of reptilian genes. He was highly intelligent but physically frail, plagued by what the Institute called “emotional and psychiatric deficits.” But he possessed two things the military coveted: incredible regenerative cells and terrifyingly potent psychic abilities. After a series of failed trials, the board ordered him “decommissioned.” I couldn’t do it. I intercepted his cryo-tank right at the door of the incinerator and fought for the right to foster him. For a year after that, I raised him in my own way. At the time, his mental state was that of a confused child. I named him Silas. I taught him to read, sat by his bed until he fell asleep, and held him through the violent tremors when his powers spiked out of control. Then came the accident. The Institute noticed his skyrocketing potential and moved in to reclaim their “property.” I had no legal standing, no rights, and no way to fight back. The last time I saw Silas, he was hysterical. He fought so hard to stay with me that the sedatives barely touched him. He tore his claws through the electronic collar meant to suppress his emotions, the alarms screaming in the small room. He slammed his face against the heavy steel muzzle they’d forced onto him until it was bent and deformed. Half his face was a ruin of blood and torn scales. The floor was slick with the dark, emerald-green fluid of his lifeblood. It took a dozen guards to pin him down. The director, watching through the glass, grew impatient. “If you can’t secure him, just put a bullet in him. We’ll harvest the tissue post-mortem.” My blood ran cold. The guards leveled their rifles at Silas’s head. Panic, sharp and blinding, surged through me. I forced my face into a mask of calm, stepped over the blood-slicked floor, and pulled Silas into a tight embrace. “Be good, Silas,” I whispered into his ear, my voice trembling. “Go with them for now. I’ll come get you soon.” Silas finally went still. He shifted his pale green eyes toward me, his pupils dilating until the black swallowed the emerald. It took him a long time to find his voice through the muzzle. “…How… long?” “One day,” I lied, my heart breaking. “…One day?” “Yes,” I promised, stroking his hair as they dragged us apart. “Just one day.” 3 I never saw him again. Not for seven years. The traffic light turned red, and Sarah brought the car to a halt. Her voice snapped the thread of my memory. “Do you have a place to stay? If not, my guest room is yours.” Sarah Brooks had been my closest friend since grad school. We’d climbed the ranks at Eve together. Looking at her sleek car and expensive coat, it was clear she had navigated the new world order quite well. I didn’t turn her down. I had nowhere else to go. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” Sarah’s apartment was in the heart of the city—a high-rise with a view of the sprawling metropolis. She led me inside and went to make coffee. In the living room, there was a floor-to-ceiling aquarium filled with jellyfish. They drifted like ghostly umbrellas, illuminated by soft neon lights. “You still like jellyfish,” I noted. Sarah moved with the practiced ease of someone who hadn’t spent seven years in a cell. “I don’t know if I like them. They’re just… calming. Something to look at when the world gets too loud.” She set a mug in front of me, her eyes searching mine. “And you? How was it? When you vanished, the lab was a mess of rumors. People said you sold 0207 to the highest bidder and ran off with the cash. But then the news of your arrest hit, and…” I tightened my grip on the warm mug. “A lot happened, Sarah.” Sensing my wall going up, she backed off. “Right. It’s in the past. Let’s look forward. You need a job. My pharmaceutical firm is looking for a senior consultant. You were our star researcher, Elena. I know you can handle it.” I hesitated. “Sarah, I’ve been out of the loop for a long time. The technology…” She pressed a hand to my shoulder. “You have the instincts. Just try, okay?” 4 The next morning, I walked into Sarah’s corporate headquarters. Since the Hybrid Uprising, the industry landscape had shifted. Sarah’s company, Brooks Biotics, had survived by pivoting early to Hybrid healthcare. I spent the day buried in manuals, familiarizing myself with the upgraded lab equipment. By the time I looked up, the sun was beginning to set. I packed my bag and headed for the elevators. As I reached the lobby, the main doors hissed open. The light was hitting the glass at an angle, turning the lobby into a cathedral of orange and gold. A group of people walked in, but I only saw the man at the center. My heart stopped. Seven years hadn’t changed Silas’s face much, but everything else was different. He wore a sharp, black military-style uniform. His waist-length white hair had been shorn into a modern, jagged cut that partially veiled his eyes. On his fingers, he wore heavy rings—conductors for his psychic output. He looked lethal. He looked powerful. I froze at the top of the short stairs leading to the lobby, watching him from twenty yards away. I heard the frantic whispers of the receptionists. “Is that the Archon? What is he doing here?” “I heard he’s personally overseeing the new nerve-regeneration project. The R&D department is going to have a long night…” Silas moved with a predatory grace, flanked by aides. As he approached the private elevators, he stopped. Just before the doors slid shut, he turned his head and looked directly toward the stairs. It was a casual glance. Indifferent. His eyes swept over me for half a second before he turned back. The doors closed, and he was gone. 5 That night, the dreams returned. I hadn’t dreamt of Silas in years, but now my subconscious was a flood of the past. I dreamt of us walking through the woods behind the old lab, the sun dappling through the canopy. I dreamt of the way he’d struggle with a pen, carefully tracing my name on a piece of paper. I dreamt of the quiet afternoons when he’d shift into his larger, reptilian form, his massive white tail coiling protectively around my arm while he slept, his forehead pressed against mine. And I dreamt of the blood. The muzzle. His pale face through the rain. I woke up cold and hollow. The weeks passed in a blur of routine. I moved out of Sarah’s place and found a small, nondescript apartment near the office. I ate alone, slept alone, and kept my head down. Two months later, Sarah stopped by my desk. “Elena, are you free tonight? There’s a gala for the Coalition’s top donors. I need you there as my technical lead.” I nodded. It was part of the job. The gala was held in a ballroom that felt more like a palace. Champagne-colored marble, crystal chandeliers, and a fountain that flowed with liquid gold. The room was a mix of humans and Hybrids, all dressed in silks and velvet, dancing as if the war had never happened. I took a glass of wine and retreated to a quiet corner. I felt like a ghost haunting a party I wasn’t invited to. Then, the room went quiet. The heavy thud of combat boots echoed against the marble. I looked up. Silas walked in. He was in full dress uniform now, looking every bit the sovereign. The hard, pearlescent scales along his jaw caught the light like diamonds. He was no longer the boy who cried for me. He was a king. I couldn’t look away. And as if he felt the weight of my stare, his eyes snapped to mine. I looked down immediately, my heart hammering against my ribs. When I gathered the courage to look up again, he had disappeared into the crowd. Sarah came back a few minutes later, nudging me with her elbow. “You should go say hello.” “I don’t think so,” I said, my voice thin. “He’s our biggest client, Elena. For the sake of the firm, you need to make contact. Unless… it’s too much for you?” “Next time,” I said. “I’m not ready.” “Fine.” She raised her glass and wandered back into the fray. I turned to leave, but a man intercepted me. “Excuse me… Miss Miller?” I turned to see a face that looked vaguely familiar. A researcher from the old days. “It really is you,” he said, beaming. “It’s been so long.” “I’m sorry, have we…?” “The academic forum seven years ago. You gave that brilliant lecture on neural plasticity,” he said, handing me a business card. “I never forgot it.” “Oh, right. Good to see you again,” I said, forcing a smile. Before I could say another word, a shadow fell over us. The air in the immediate vicinity seemed to drop ten degrees. The conversations around us died out. I turned around and found myself staring into eyes the color of a cold mountain lake. Silas was standing inches away, his face partially in shadow. “A small world indeed,” he said. His pupils were narrowed into dangerous vertical slits. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” 6 I knew that look. Silas was furious. The man beside me stammered, “O-of course not, Your Excellency. We were just… catching up.” Silas didn’t look at him. He was staring at me, waiting for me to speak. I swallowed hard and lowered my head. “…Your Excellency.” Silas let out a short, cold laugh. The sound made the people nearby flinch. He held out his hand. His fingers were long and elegant, the rings at the base of his knuckles glowing with a faint, pulsing light. “In human etiquette, a handshake signifies goodwill,” he said, his voice a low drawl. “Isn’t that right?” It was a lesson I had taught him. The irony was like a physical blow. I reached out, my fingers barely brushing his for a fraction of a second before I tried to pull away. Silas didn’t let go. He kept his hand suspended in the air for a long moment after I retracted mine, his fingers slowly curling into a fist. A brave—or perhaps stupid—bystander asked, “Archon, do you and Miss Miller… know each other?” “Yes,” Silas said, tilting his chin up, his tone deceptively light. “We know each other very well. Though I’m not quite sure what I should call her these days.” He stepped toward me, closing the distance until I was forced to look up at him. “Researcher?” he mused. “Teacher?” “Elena?” He leaned down, his lips inches from my ear. His breath was cool, and his voice was a sharp, clear whisper that only I could hear. “…Mother?”
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