The van rolled through the gates of the school’s northern compound just as the sun broke through the clouds, casting pale light across the pavement. Leo sat in the back, listening to the tires hum against the road, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his knee. Every bump in the road felt like a countdown.

  Next to him, Cal was chewing on the drawstring of his hoodie. “Okay, new theory,” he said, voice just a bit too loud. “They’re actually just gonna blend us into smoothies and feed us to the next group.”

  Kit gave him a look. “You’ve made that joke three times.”

  “And it gets funnier every time.” Cal flashed a grin, but it didn’t hide the nerves behind his eyes.

  Leo managed a quiet chuckle, then turned toward the sound of the van’s engine slowing. “Are we there?”

  “Looks like it,” Kit said.

  The van pulled to a smooth stop in front of a stark white building—tall and windowless, with soft blue light lining the seams of its panels. Technicians in matching gray uniforms moved in like a well-rehearsed play, silently removing their duffel bags from the rear doors.

  “Guess this is it,” Leo murmured.

  They stepped out into the brisk air. A few yards away, a girl stood with her hands on her hips, taking in the building like she was about to conquer it. She was tall and light-footed, with bright eyes and wind-swept hair. She wore the same school-issued tracksuit, but her stance had a bounce to it—nervous energy trying to pass for confidence.

  When she noticed the boys, she offered a small wave. “You guys here for the gene mod too?”

  Cal raised a hand. “Unfortunately.”

  She laughed. “Same. I’m Sam.”

  “Leo,” Leo said, then gestured vaguely toward his friends. “That’s Cal, and Kit.”

  Sam’s eyes flicked between them, curiosity shining through. “What animal’d you get?”

  Leo hesitated. “Fox. I guess that’s supposed to mean something soon.”

  “Otter,” Cal said, grinning. “Aquatic menace at your service.”

  Kit gave a small shrug. “Ground squirrel.”

  Sam raised her eyebrows. “Nice. I got a white zebra finch. They said it might give me wings. Like... real wings.”

  Cal blinked. “Seriously?”

  Sam nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “If the flight thing works, I’ll be the first human finch in the sky. No pressure, right?”

  There was a pause—each of them taking that in. Excitement. Fear. Curiosity.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Then a technician opened the door. “Please enter.”

  Inside, the hallway was long and eerily quiet. The walls gleamed like brushed steel, the only sound their footsteps and the low hum of hidden machinery.

  “Please remove all clothing and personal items,” another technician instructed. “Everything will be sent to your dorms.”

  Sam blinked. “Wow. That’s... abrupt.”

  “Is it too late to back out?” Cal whispered to Leo.

  Leo gave a dry smile. “We’re kinda past the point of polite exits.”

  They stripped in silence, folded their clothes into labeled bins, and were led into the next room.

  Four glass vats waited for them—tall, cylindrical chambers lined with monitors and glowing panels. Wires dangled like vines from the ceiling, and low lights pulsed beneath the floor.

  Leo stepped into his chamber first, the base warm against his bare feet. The glass door hissed shut around him. His chest tightened. His hands trembled slightly.

  Amber light flickered below him as liquid began to rise.

  Kit followed, his face pale. Cal gave a mock salute as he was guided into his vat, but his jokes had gone silent.

  Sam stepped into hers last, gaze flicking across the controls like she might still try to figure them out.

  Leo could feel the warmth of the liquid wrapping around his legs, creeping up slowly. His heart pounded. He could hear Kit breathing hard in the vat next to him. Cal muttered something through the glass that was too muffled to understand.

  Sam’s eyes were wide, fixed on the fluid rising around her ankles. She looked brave. But her fingers pressed lightly against the glass—like she was steadying herself.

  Leo opened his mouth to say something—to anyone—but the liquid was already at his chest.

  A beat of silence.

  Then the fluid surged up faster. He gasped, but his lungs caught nothing. He slammed his palm against the glass. His vision—what little of it there was—dimmed at the edges. He heard the others thrashing faintly.

  Sam’s face blurred through the liquid, her mouth moving in a wordless cry.

  And then—

  Nothing.

  Darkness.

  Somewhere Between

  Leo was falling.

  Not through air. Not through space.

  Through himself.

  It was like his body had been unstitched—bones, nerves, thoughts, memory—everything unraveling and rethreading at once. Sensations crackled in bursts: heat, cold, static, sound. A thousand tiny hands brushing against his skin, then nothing at all.

  He tried to open his eyes, but there were no eyes to open. Just color. Shapes. Voices that weren’t voices.

  > "Sequence acquired. Subject 09: Leo. Initiating integration: Vulpes vulpes."

  He didn’t hear it so much as feel it. A voice inside his skull—but wrong, layered, digitized, like static with a smile.

  Amber light pulsed around him. He sensed movement in his limbs… but they weren’t his anymore. Joints cracked. Tendons shifted. Fingernails sharpened into points. His teeth ached, then lengthened.

  > You are becoming.

  He tried to speak—but his mouth wasn’t finished forming.

  KIT

  Kit floated in pitch black, but heard things. Burrowing. Scratching. The earth calling to him like an old friend he hadn’t met yet.

  > “Subject 14: Kit. Rodentia—Sciuridae. Sequence compatible. Reflex loop initiated.”

  He screamed, but it came out a low snarl. Claws dug into nothing. His muscles spasmed as his spine shifted, tugging the bones into a curve he didn’t recognize. His heart raced like it was chasing something just ahead of him—fast, faster—too fast.

  He thought of Leo. Cal.

  Then the world snapped sideways and vanished.

  Cal

  Cal was laughing at first, the way you might laugh when a rollercoaster drops and your brain forgets fear.

  > “Subject 13: Cal. Lutra canadensis. Neural pairing stable.”

  Then came the cold. Pressure wrapped around his chest. Gills? No—lungs, adapting. His fingers webbed, bones stretching. His skin felt too tight, then too loose, then slick. He twisted in panic.

  > "Oxygen filtration realigning."

  He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. His tail—he had a tail—thrashed through a liquid he couldn’t see. He thought of water. Of rivers. Of Leo.

  Of home.

  Then it all collapsed inward, like a dam breaking.

  Sam

  Sam floated in silence.

  At first, there was only light. Pure, blinding white. Then her skin tingled—every inch of it—as though being redrawn by invisible ink.

  > “Subject 21: Samantha. Taeniopygia guttata. Aerial protocol in progress.”

  Her bones ached. Not just pain—emptiness. Like they were being hollowed out, carved from within. She wanted to curl into herself, but her limbs had forgotten how.

  And then came weightlessness.

  For a second—maybe less—she felt it. Lift. Like her body was no longer anchored to anything. Air moved inside her lungs with sharp precision. Her chest rose and fell like a bird about to take off.

  > You were meant for sky.

  But the thought felt… wrong. Like it wasn’t hers. Too smooth. Too rehearsed.

  Her arms burned. Something sprouted. Feathers? Pressure beneath her shoulder blades—like wings unfolding in a space too small to hold them.

  Sam tried to cry out, but the light swallowed her whole.

  They all drifted then.

  Beyond thought.

  Beyond name.

  A shared silence held them. Waiting.

  And far in the back of Leo’s mind, something glitched.

  > “ARIS protocol deviation detected. Route... unsustainable.”

  A whisper in the dark.

  Unheard.

  Forgotten.

  For now.