The night air was still as Elijah's perception deepened, his vision becoming a tapestry of heat and energy. Grace lay peacefully in his arms, her breathing slow and even. But beneath the surface of her form, something else revealed itself.
He saw it clearly now—the lower frequency spectrum wrapped around her inner spark like a serpent coiling around its prey. The container was subtle, almost invisible, but its edges pressed against her natural energy with predatory precision. It was feeding on her, slowly, steadily, draining her vitality.
That's what I sensed, Elijah thought, his internal voice carrying a note of grim realization. She's being slowly consumed. And she doesn't even know it.
His mind reached out to Wonko, his mental voice carrying a note of analytical precision.
There's a foreign frequency within her, Elijah said. It's constricting her natural energy. Almost like a parasite feeding on its host.
Wonko's mental voice carried a note of dark amusement. Only one way to find out what it really is. Dig deeper.
Elijah's expression shifted to one of exaggerated offense. His eyebrows shot up, his lips curving into a theatrical frown. His hands moved in dramatic gestures of wounded dignity.
"Hold your horses," Elijah said aloud, his voice carrying a note of mock outrage. "I'm a gentleman. I don't take advantage of women, especially in their disadvantageous situations."
Wonko's mental voice carried a note of exasperation. You little punk. Of all the times to mess around, you think this is one of them? Real dirty-minded brat. I wonder how many girls you've fooled around with that attitude of yours.
Elijah's expression shifted to one of theatrical offense. His hand pressed against his chest in a gesture of wounded pride.
"How dare you, good sir, accuse me of such a thing!" he said, his voice dripping with melodramatic indignation. "I am a paragon of virtue! A gentleman of the highest order!"
Wonko's mental voice carried a note of dry skepticism. You're impossible.
---
The moment passed, and Elijah's expression grew serious. He gently laid Grace on the ground, positioning her carefully on a patch of soft grass. He then sat cross-legged, his body relaxing into a meditative posture.
His breathing slowed, each inhale and exhale measured and deliberate. The technique was ancient—one he had learned from a 200,000-year-old scroll during his time at the White Mere Gallery, owned by his crooked adoptive parents, the Isleys. After acquiring the mandate, Wonko had revealed it was one of the most precious and almost forgotten techniques, dating back even before the Sutran race was founded.
The technique had proven invaluable. It allowed him to project his consciousness, to release his spirit from his body. He had used it to house the Xototl he acquired from Vivian's puppet, keeping them in one of his hidden garages. Since then, the rich Aetherastrum within his Orrhion chip world had caused them to evolve, hatching and growing in number—higher forms than those the Wycliffe family used.
Elijah's consciousness separated from his body.
He drifted upward, his form weightless and ethereal. He moved like an astronaut in zero gravity, his movements slow and deliberate. The world around him was a tapestry of energy, the frequencies of existence visible in brilliant detail.
He drifted toward Grace's unconscious form, his gaze fixed on the constriction within her chest. He reached out, his spectral hand hovering over her.
Does she have a chip? he wondered. Is she connected to the same system?
His fingers brushed against the surface of her energy. And then—
He was pulled in.
---
The Orrhion Chip World: Grace's Prison
The world that surrounded him was a cold, sterile void. Holographic prisms of lower frequency spectrum stretched in every direction, their edges sharp and unyielding. The light was dim, flickering with a sickly glow.
Elijah's consciousness stood in the center of the void, his expression one of quiet surprise.
Sheesh, he thought, his internal voice carrying a note of dark amusement. At one point, my mind was like this. No wonder I almost turned into some douche psycho.
A voice echoed through the void—cold, emotionless, carrying the weight of ancient authority.
"Which fool dares to intrude upon my sanctuary?"
Elijah's gaze shifted upward. A massive eye—no, several eyes—materialized in the void above him. They were babish in their design, as if a dark deva had crafted an oracle of soulless chaos. The eyes blinked in staggered patterns, their gaze fixed on him with predatory curiosity.
The voice spoke again, its tone shifting to one of surprise. "How... how is this possible? A human... in this form... what are you?"
Elijah's lips curved into a faint smile. "I could ask you the same thing. But I'm guessing you're the one who's been feeding on her."
The eyes narrowed, their gaze sharpening with interest. "You are... delightful. A one-in-billions. Something my masters have searched for across cycles of lifetimes. And yet, at the same time, you are not what you appear to be."
Elijah's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
The voice carried a note of excited curiosity. "You are a mutant specimen. A deviation. Only by collecting data from you can I evaluate what you truly are. And the only way to do that..."
The air shifted. A new presence materialized behind Elijah—a mass of DMT-like protoplasm, dark and soulless, pulsing with predatory intent. Its eyes were closed, but they snapped open the moment it sensed him.
"How nice," it said, its voice dripping with predatory delight. It glanced at the many eyes above. "Did you decide to give me such nice treats?"
The many eyes scolded it. "Fool. Do not harm the specimen. I need it contained."
The protoplasm's expression shifted to one of disappointment. It turned to Elijah, its grin widening with dark amusement.
"You are very delicious," it said, its voice carrying a note of predatory hunger. "I wonder how much excitement you would bring... seeing you in agony."
Elijah's expression remained calm, but his eyes held a flicker of dark amusement.
"Hey, ugly," he said, his voice carrying a note of casual dismissal. "Why don't you do me a favor? Scram."
The protoplasm's grin widened. It lunged forward, its mass surging toward Elijah with predatory speed.
Elijah's hand moved. Something flashed through the air—a blur of spectral energy that struck the protoplasm with devastating force.
The protoplasm screamed, its mass convulsing and spamming. It recoiled, its form flickering with pain.
"Stop!" it screeched, its voice high and desperate. "What did you do?!"
Elijah's expression remained calm. "What's the matter? You like taking advantage of others. But when the tables turn, you start moaning about it?"
The many eyes above blazed with fury. "Vermin! How dare you talk to me like that! Do you know who you are messing with?!"
The world shuddered. The prisms began to crack, the void trembling with barely contained fury.
Elijah raised his palm. The Aetherastrum within him flared, waves of radiant energy surging toward the protoplasm. The creature's form began to flicker, its mass dissolving as Elijah's energy consumed it.
"Demon!" the protoplasm shrieked. "I can't move! You—you're a demon!"
Elijah's expression shifted to one of dark amusement. "Who's the ugly one here, pal? You. Not me."
The protoplasm's form dissolved completely, consumed by Elijah's energy. He let out a theatrical belch, his expression one of exaggerated satisfaction.
The many eyes stared in shock. "What—what have you done?"
Elijah's smile was cold. "If you don't want to be in the same situation as your buddy, you'd better cooperate with me."
The many eyes narrowed. "You want me to submit to you? Then you have another thing coming."
Elijah's palm raised again, the Aetherastrum flaring with barely contained power. The eyes widened, panic flickering in their depths.
"Fine! Fine!" the voice said, its tone shifting to one of desperate surrender. "What do you want?"
Elijah's expression remained calm. "Leave the girl alone. She's a fine student of mine. I've grown to like her."
The many eyes stared at him. "Who are you? Anyway, that ugly fellow was the only one using you to feed on the girl. Now that it's gone, I no longer need to control her."
Elijah's voice carried a note of calculated persuasion. "Plus, if she joins my side, you stand to benefit more than simply keeping her as some guinea pig tool. You might even evolve."
The many eyes considered him. "But won't that destroy her foundation?"
Elijah's smile widened. "Look at me. I became more by going through the unknown myself. The same can go for you."
The many eyes were silent for a long moment. Then, reluctantly, they spoke.
"Agreed," they said. "But if you betray me, the girl dies."
---
Elijah's consciousness returned to his body. He opened his eyes, his gaze falling on Grace's sleeping form.
It's done, he thought. For now.
The night stretched before him, silent and vast.