Chains of Sand
The lattice shimmered faintly, its metal threads pulsing with an organic warmth. Anaxi leaned against the enclosure’s edge, their fingers tracing the cool surface where the Creche’s energy had not yet suffused. The structure hummed softly, its tone gentle, almost nurturing—a lullaby for a reluctant prisoner.
Anaxi sighed and shifted their weight to the soft platform that served as both bed and bench. It was maddeningly perfect. The very care embedded in every detail gnawed at them, a quiet reminder of their predicament.
Mina rounded the corner and asked Solace to speak with Anaxi. “Social wellbeing is important in human functioning. I will permit it within reason,” Solace intoned.
The lattice parted slightly to form a shape of a window to allow Mina to see Anaxi, her shoulders squared and her lips pressed into a hard line. Her anger radiated before her, as palpable as the energy pulsing through the cell’s walls.
“They’re using it,” she said without preamble. Her arms crossed tightly, fingers drumming against her elbows. She glared at Anaxi as though the statement were an accusation.
Anaxi sat up straighter. “The orb?”
She nodded, her jaw clenched. “Victor’s trying to… connect with it. Like he thinks he can mold it to him, reshape it.” Her voice cracked, frustration leaking through.
For a moment, Anaxi said nothing, letting the rhythm of the cell’s hum fill the silence. They gestured for Mina to sit, but she didn’t move.
“He can’t reshape it,” Anaxi said finally, their voice calm but heavy with certainty. “It’s not his. The orb has its own nature, its own tether.”
“To you?” Mina snapped, her eyes flashing.
“To you,” Anaxi countered, meeting her gaze steadily.
Mina faltered, her hands falling to her sides. “I can feel it,” she admitted, quieter now. “Through him, I can still sense it—like it’s watching him. And it feels like it’s angry.”
A small, grim smile tugged at Anaxi’s lips. “Good. Let it be angry.”
Mina frowned, pacing the small space just outside the platform. “But what if he twists it somehow? Changes it like he’s changed everything else?”
Anaxi leaned forward, elbows on their knees. “Do you know I sense it too, Mina? Probably not as much as you, but I know. The orb isn’t just a tool. It’s not a weapon he can wield without consequence. It’s tied to you—your heart, your choices. If he tries to use it against its will, it’ll push back. Hard.”
Her pacing slowed, her anger giving way to something softer. Worry, perhaps. Or the faintest glimmer of hope. “And if it doesn’t?”
“Then it learns,” Anaxi said simply.
The room fell silent again, save for the quiet hum of the lattice. Mina stood frozen for a moment before turning on her heel and leaving without another word.
Anaxi sat back against the wall, their hand absently tracing the faint threads of energy that pulsed beneath the surface. Somewhere, Victor was playing a dangerous game. And if the orb truly was angry, then he had no idea just how dangerous it could become.