Chapter IV: Metamorphosis

Eleven years old, Felix stood alone at the threshold of the orphanage—a place that had never truly been home. Behind him, the building was being stripped of life and identity, its corridors silenced, its warmth gutted. A cold wind swept down from the grey sky, heavy with the promise of snow. The future loomed as bleak as the skyline.

“Step aside, kid. We’ve got work to do,” barked a NIX officer.

Felix said nothing. He walked.

He wandered through icy streets, past disinterested strangers and indifferent walls, until he came upon a quiet alley. Cardboard boxes lined the space like makeshift tombs. He crawled inside, crafting a crude shelter with his frozen hands. With what little he had—a few blankets, a torn jacket—he made a hollow den and retreated into it.

Hunger clawed at him as the night deepened.

“I’m so hungry...” he whispered to the empty dark. “Just have to make it until morning... maybe find food. Maybe survive.”

Footsteps crunched the snow. They drew closer... then stopped—just beyond sight.

***

Consciousness returned in jolts.

Felix was being dragged.

His legs scraped rough ground, his arms pulled taut by unseen captors. A door screeched open. Cold air rushed in.

Without warning, they flung him forward.

He hit the ground face-first, the soil soft beneath him. The door slammed shut behind.

Dazed, he rose to his knees. Trees surrounded him—tall, silent sentinels cloaked in darkness.

Where am I? Is this... outside?

The door opened again.

A wave of people spilled out—two dozen, maybe more. All strangers. All silent. All bearing the same haunted look. They stood motionless, as if awaiting instructions.

Then someone approached.

A boy, about Felix’s age, with coiled blond curls and light brown eyes.

“Hey. You look new. I’m Jake.”

“Felix,” he replied cautiously. They shook hands. “Where are we?”

“We think it’s a NIX Juvenile Detention Facility. But no one knows for sure.”

A voice crackled from hidden speakers—deep, amused, mechanical:

“Correct, Mr. Langdon. Welcome to the NIX Juvenile Detention Center. You’re here because of your affiliation with the Paradox Movement.”

The crowd stirred, unease spreading like contagion.

“Previous batches were... disappointing. Let’s hope this one proves more fruitful. Time to begin the trial.”

“What trial?” Felix called out.

“The trial of the perfect flower,” the voice chuckled. “The one who survives.”

Then came the screeching—dozens of cries, inhuman and shrill. The sound of Voids.

Felix’s heart stopped.

We’re dead. Without SDN gear, we’re dead!

“One rule,” the voice said. “Survive—by any means necessary. Only one can win.”

A shriek pierced the night.

A massive Void struck, its serpent-like head lunging and biting into a woman’s shoulder. She screamed—but only briefly. The creature ripped her in half with sickening ease.

Panic detonated.

A boy summoned fire—a Constellation. He roared as flames surged, scorching the trees and everything around them.

The Void didn’t flinch.

It moved through the inferno untouched, grabbed him, and peeled him like paper. His scream ended with a skull-crushing stomp.

Others ran. Some fought. Many fell.

Blood painted the forest.

Felix ran.

His mind searched—memories racing. The blueprints... from that old Paradox file... the ventilation shaft!

“There’s a shaft nearby!” he shouted. “If I’m right—we can escape!”

“Then MOVE!” Jake yelled.

Together with a few survivors, they sprinted through burning foliage. Breathless. Smoke stinging their eyes. Screams behind them.

They reached a hidden hatch—set into a wall of scorched concrete.

“It’s locked!” one of them cried. A red light blinked on a biometric scanner.

“My constellation can hack it!” Jake said. “Cover me!”

Felix nodded, turning to face the charging Voids.

Glitch distortion burst across his arms—his Constellation awakening like a beast from slumber. His right arm twitched. The distortion surged like a virus, tearing through the corrupted air.

WHRRRRR-CRACK—

Felix’s arm became a chainsaw of jagged distortion.

He unleashes—cutting through a Void. It didn’t bleed. It pixelated, breaking apart like corrupted code.

“Only mine works…” Felix whispered. “Only glitch hurts them…”

Others attacked too—fire, ice, energy. But the Voids adapted. They fed on emotion.

“Why aren’t they DYING?!” someone screamed.

“HURRY, JAKE!” Felix roared. “We can’t hold—!”

But Jake was already on the other side of the shaft.

The door slammed shut.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Felix pounded on the hatch.

Jake’s voice came through cold. Accusing.

“You betrayed the Paradox Movement. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be trapped here.”

“What—? No! That’s not—”

“Rot in hell, Felix.”

Jake vanished into the vent.

Felix stood alone.

The world was quiet.

Only the trees burned now. The Voids crept closer.

One of them grabbed Felix by the jacket and hurled him across the clearing. He landed hard, gasping.

His fists clenched.

“So this is it…?” he thought. Abandoned. Betrayed. Left to die?

“To hell with them,” he whispered. “To hell with everything.”

The Voids surrounded him, their forms flickering and mutating.

Felix raised his arms.

“If they want me to burn—”

Glitch surged through him. Arms crackled, eyes glowing with static light.

“I’LL BRING THEM ALL DOWN WITH ME!”

He charged.

His chainsaw arm tore through a Void—clean, precise. It shattered into red code.

Another struck. He ducked, countered—ripping it apart with a howl of rage.

They came, and he met them.

Rage. Survival. Desperation. His thoughts screamed in a loop:

I don’t want to die. Not yet. Not until I—

Then—one Void stopped. Its face hovered inches from his.

It whispered.

The words were wrong, twisted—unintelligible but familiar, like a dream he’d forgotten.

Felix froze.

The forest turned red.

And then—

Darkness.

***

"Hello?"

A voice broke the hush of falling snow, jarring Felix from the fragile silence that had settled over his cardboard shelter.

He peered out.

A girl stood a few metres away, framed by the alleyway’s pale winter light. Snowflakes clung to her long, unruly reddish brown hair. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and her small, Grecian nose had turned red. She wore a white sweatshirt with a black-and-green NASA logo and blue jeans. Her hooded eyes—dark brown, sharp, observant—seemed to peer right through him, as if she knew everything he had ever wished for.

She didn’t wait for an answer. She turned to leave.

“There’s a diner nearby—Messier 83. Open 24 hours. We can warm up there. It’s my treat. You coming?”

Felix, heart skipping, nodded. “Okay.”

The Messier 83 Diner was a sanctuary in contrast to the cold. Neon lights buzzed softly outside, casting a pastel glow onto faded chequered flooring and worn-out booths. The air smelled of bacon grease and fresh coffee. Comfort.

They sat in a corner booth, sliding into cracked red leather seats. A waitress emerged from the kitchen, pen in hand.

“May I please have a bacon cheeseburger and an Oreo milkshake?” Felix asked quickly, almost afraid it would vanish if he hesitated.

“Full American breakfast, and a hot honey latte,” the girl said simply.

Their menus were whisked away. The diner was quiet—just two other patrons huddled in silence.

Felix glanced around.

The walls bore faded photos: forgotten families, black-and-white laughter, proud handshakes. A jukebox hummed in the corner—its song warped, warbled, but stubbornly alive. Nostalgia lived in every crack of the place.

Their food arrived.

Felix’s eyes lit up. His burger towered on the plate, dripping with molten cheese. The Oreo milkshake was thick and sweet—syrupy joy in a glass. He took a bite. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, he felt full. Safe.

The girl sipped her latte in silence, eyes fixed on the snow falling beyond the foggy diner window.

“Tell me,” she asked suddenly, “what is your dream?”

The question caught Felix mid-slurp.

“Huh? Dream?” he echoed, blinking. “I don’t really have a grand one like most people. I just want a home. To be financially secure. Eat good food whenever I want.”

He paused.

“But… if I’m honest, I want to explore the world—maybe even the stars. There’s so much out there. So many mysteries. I want to see it all. Not alone. With the people who’ve been kind to me.”

The girl didn’t respond. But something flickered in her eyes—a glint, sharp and sorrowful.

Moments passed. Felix excused himself to wash his hands.

When he returned—
She was gone.

So was her plate. The table had been cleaned. Wiped down.

Like she’d never been there at all.

Except for the note:

“Your dream is grander than you can imagine. Felix, I want you to believe.”

He clutched it, heart racing. Slipping it into his hoodie, he dashed toward the waitress.

“Excuse me, miss—did you see where the girl who was with me went?”

The waitress blinked.

“Girl? Honey, I didn’t even see you come in.”

“But—but we sat right there! We ordered food—!”

“I’m sorry. I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Confused, Felix turned toward the exit.

“Wait—!” the waitress called.

He didn’t stop.

He ran.

He found her at the playground, seven block down. She stood on the rooftop of a towering slide, nearly 23 feet tall, her back to him, head tilted toward the sky. Snow drifted down gently, quieting the world.

“How did you know my name?” Felix called, edging toward the base of the slide.

She didn’t move.

“Would you believe me if I told you I am not the same girl you met, and yet I am the same girl you will meet?”

Felix blinked. “What…?”

She turned toward him—and stepped off the edge.

He gasped—but she landed gracefully. Her shocking pink trainers slid across the snow with ease.

“You think I’m crazy,” she said, walking toward him.

“No, I don’t—” he began.

“But you do.”

He froze.

“How did you—?”

“Because I know so.”

Her voice was calm. Serene.

“Who are you?” he asked, desperate.

“I am no one. And yet someone.”

Felix scowled. “I don’t understand. Why won’t you just tell me?”

“Why do you want to understand me?” she countered.

He looked down at his too-large white high-top trainers.

“Because you’re the first person who’s ever treated me like I belong—not just another face, not just an orphan. You made me feel like I have a place in this world.”

She turned, looking up at the stars again.

Silence stretched. Then—her voice, soft and powerful:

“Starling.”

Felix’s breath caught.

“That is my name,” she said, turning to face him with a genuine, gentle smile. Her eyes shimmered with warmth.

“If you’re ready,” she whispered.

Then—the world glitched.

Flickering.

Her form distorted like corrupted data.

And she was gone.

The playground stood empty. Only snow, and Felix stood there with the echo of her presence.

But her voice lingered.

“Come and find me,” she whispered as the world dissolved into darkness.

***

Felix’s eyes were half-lidded and unfocused, tears tracing silent paths down his blood-smeared cheeks before splashing to the ground.

The right side of his face was unrecognisable—shattered, scorched, mutilated. His body lay broken and twisted amidst the carnage.

Surrounding him was a hellscape of torn limbs and scorched earth. Human and Void remains were strewn across the desolate field—some dissolved, others petrified in agony. A battlefield, but also a graveyard.

“This batch held such promise,” a voice crackled through the intercom.
“If only the Voids had shown even a shred of mercy, we might have made real progress with Project Event Horizon.”

The voice was weary, but not mournful—more disappointed than grieving.

Figures in biohazard suits stepped into view, moving with mechanical precision. They inspected bodies, scribbled notes, scanned for bio-signs—this was not their first time.

They weren’t searching for survivors.

This was a simulation.

A trial.

“We’re finished, Dr. Krendler. Ready to release the Eraser,” said one of the figures through a filtered voice.

“Excellent. Clear the chamber,” came the reply—eerily chipper.

The personnel backed away toward the automatic doors, sealing themselves within an observation chamber. Above them, in the exhibit dome, the ceiling’s panels parted like the petals of a steel flower.

From the shadows, it descended.

The Eraser.

A grotesque, centipede-like cephalopod, its tendrils squirming and twitching with unnatural grace. Its head resembled something disturbingly human, though elongated and blank-eyed, while countless tentacles writhed beneath its chitinous body.

It twisted midair, transforming into a vortex of swirling water and spiralling air—an inverted tornado made of teeth and hunger. With one shriek, it descended and devoured everything.

Bodies. Ash. Bone. Even memory.

Within seconds, the battlefield was… clean.

As if it had never happened.

The Eraser’s storm form calmed. Its limbs fell slack. It hovered, obedient, awaiting its next instruction.

“Eraser process complete,” a technician confirmed.
“Shall we proceed with the next batch, Dr. Krendler?”

“Yes, yes. Reset the chamber. Bring in the next group.”

“Returning the Eraser to containment now.”

The Eraser began to retreat.

But then—

A sound.

A scream—not human. Not Void. Something else.

The Eraser writhed, emitting a shriek that reverberated through every wall.

Its limbs clawed at its own abdomen.

“What’s happening?” Krendler’s voice barked. “Report!”

“Unknown, sir! It’s—ripping itself apart!”

The Eraser’s sleek, horrifying form spasmed violently. Panels of flesh tore open, ichor spraying across the glass. Its body twisted inward—cracking, convulsing.

“That’s impossible!” Krendler’s voice rose to a panic.
“It’s designed to digest anything! It should be invulnerable! FIX THIS!”

The lab erupted into chaos.

Monitors glitched. Data scrambled. Lights flickered violently.

Then—

A deafening snap.

All eyes turned toward the display chamber.

The Eraser had folded in on itself, its body compressed by an invisible force—as if devoured from the inside.

And then—

It was gone.

Vanished into a singularity of darkness. A void. A rupture.

The lab personnel barely had time to scream.

The air distorted.

The same void expanded—devouring monitors, machinery, and men alike.

One after another, the hazmat-suited researchers were sucked into it, their cries muffled by collapsing matter. The observation windows cracked. The facility trembled.

Something ancient. Something unseen. Something awakened.