There wasn’t much more light inside—just that single flickering bulb and the flashing LEDs of nearby machines. It was a lab. The layout was nearly identical to the one in the main building, the same one I’d left earlier after witnessing yet another failed experiment.

Up on a raised platform, beneath the blinking orange light, stood a large metal arch with dozens of cables snaking out in every direction.

It was the ARK. Or at least, an early prototype of it.

I stepped closer.

There were slight differences from the current model. Etched into its metal frame were symbols—faint, but deliberate. I didn’t recognize them immediately, but they stirred something in my memory.

Leaning in, I studied them more closely, trying to place them.

I accidentally bumped the desk closest to the platform, and the computer on it blinked awake.

Still logged in.

On the screen flashed the same data I’d seen earlier—the report I’d been holding in my hands.

Impossible.

Another experiment had been run—different inputs, different power levels—but the same framework. And it had come closer to success than we had.

But who would run the same experiment at the same time?

I didn’t have time to answer that.

Because I felt it again—eyes watching me from the corners of the room.

I turned, slowly, scanning the space.

Still alone.

You’re just paranoid. Calm down.

Something moved in the corner of my eye.

A shadow—quick, sudden.

It jumped.

I turned to face it.

The dark mass began to take shape, a silhouette rising out of the corner.

I wanted to scream, to ask what it wanted—but my voice caught in my throat.

It stepped closer.

And I froze.

The room exploded with blinding light—harsh, white, total.

I felt myself falling backward.

And then—

Darkness.