The experiment

My life as a criminal has finally reached its most miserable climax. Not in a dirty cell, as I always imagined it would, but in an experiment room. Here, where cold lights bathe steel walls, I am nothing more than a disposable test subject. To them, I am just flesh, blood, and bones. It doesn't matter who I was or what I did. And honestly, I don't know if it matters to me anymore.

Strapped to a vertical table, my hands and legs are firmly bound. The cold metal of the cuffs digs into my skin, leaving red marks. My chest is exposed, a perfect target. The hospital gown they gave me reeks of mold and despair, a reminder that no one here cares about the comfort of a man about to die. Or worse.

In front of me, a black crystal floats inside a glass dome. It pulses with a cold, intermittent light, as if it’s breathing. Each pulse makes the runes around it glow almost hypnotically. It feels like the crystal itself is watching me, studying me, perhaps yearning to enter me. An absurd idea, but one I can’t shake off.

The oppressive silence in the room is broken only by the constant hum of machines. That sound is like water dripping in a dark cell—a slow torture that gnaws at the nerves. I try moving my fingers, assessing any chance of escape, but the restraints are unyielding. There’s no use. All I can do is wait.

The door creaks open. Instinctively, my eyes dart toward it. A group enters: mages in ornate robes, moving as if they own the place, and scientists in pristine lab coats, carrying the clinical air of those who’ve seen many deaths and found them all unremarkable.

Leading them is a man who appears to be the leader. His hair is slicked back, and he wears round glasses that reflect the sterile white light of the laboratory. The smile on his face is as out of place as a clown at a funeral. He seems genuinely excited.

“So, this is our volunteer?” he says, tilting his head like a predator analyzing its prey. His voice is as sharp as his expression.

“Yes, Dr. Martin. A criminal from the Iron District,” one of the mages responds, his tone dripping with disdain. He adjusts his magical gloves with calculated precision, as if the mere act of dirtying himself with my existence is repulsive. “An ideal specimen. Resilient and… completely disposable.”

Resilient. The word echoes in my head. Resilient for what? I laugh internally. If only they knew. Resilience was never my strength. I didn’t resist when I lost my family; I didn’t resist when I plunged into crime. I was always the first to give in, to run.

Martin chuckles low, almost amicably, but with venom laced underneath. He walks toward me, his steps measured, almost dancing. When he’s close enough, he adjusts his glasses and examines my face with a look of feigned interest.

“Well, well… You are indeed an interesting specimen. You’re about to witness something no one has ever seen before. The dawn of a new era. The perfect union of science and magic.” He leans in slightly, as if sharing a secret. “You should feel honored.”

Honored. His words almost make me laugh. If my mouth weren’t gagged, I might have thrown out some sarcastic remark. Something like: “Honored? Sure, who wouldn’t want to be strapped down and turned into a failed experiment?” But all I can do is glare at him with as much contempt as I can muster.

He notices my expression and laughs. It’s a guttural laugh, almost a celebration of my helplessness.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, patting my cheek lightly, as if I’m a rebellious pet. “Soon, you won’t feel anything. Or… you’ll feel everything. It’s hard to predict. We’re still learning.”

His words echo in the room, but I barely hear them. My mind starts to drift. I think about the Iron District, the narrow, soot-covered streets. That’s where I grew up, and that’s where I lost myself. I think about my little sister. Does she still think of me? Or am I just a shadow in her memory now? And my mother? Oh, yes, my mother… She’s probably still praying for me in some dark corner. If only she knew where I am.

“Position the crystal!” Martin’s voice slices through my thoughts like a knife.

Two scientists move quickly, adjusting the cables and controls of the machines surrounding the dome. The black crystal seems to react to the commotion, pulsing more intensely. The runes around it glow like a miniature lightning storm.

“Make sure it’s stable,” one of the mages orders, frowning. “The last thing we need is… another explosion.”

Another explosion? My stomach churns. They’ve done this before. And judging by his tone, it didn’t end well.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Martin replies, slightly annoyed. “I have everything under control. This is a historic moment.”

As they continue adjusting the equipment, I begin to feel something different in the air. It’s as if the crystal is sucking the energy from the room. The hum of the machines grows louder, and the lights flicker momentarily.

Martin turns to me again, his eyes gleaming with a childlike excitement.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to understand what makes magic so… wild. And now, thanks to you, we’re about to tame it. You’ll be the first. The beginning of everything.”

He gestures to the others, and the machines start working. The crystal vibrates violently, emitting a dark light that seems to consume all colors around it.

And then, the pain begins.