3

“Get back!” one of them barked.

Kelly scrambled backward on the floor, shielding Dahl with her body. Chrysan stood frozen in place, unable to speak or even move. Her heart pounded against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

And then she saw him.

The one who stepped forward—the one the others instinctively looked to—was even taller than the rest. His presence sucked the air from the room. He didn’t speak right away. His eyes moved over Dahl’s limp form on the floor, then quickly to Chrysan and Kelly. He didn’t seem panicked—just deadly calm. Controlled. Dangerous.

“Pyne, check his vitals,” he ordered, his voice deep and cold like stone scraping against steel. “Oak, seal the entry. Now.”

The men obeyed instantly, moving with terrifying coordination.

Chrysan still couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Her eyes were locked on him—the one in charge. The way he carried himself, the weight in his voice—it made her feel small. Not just physically, but insignificant. Like prey under a predator’s gaze.

“What’s happening?” Kelly cried. “Who are you people?!”

Jas didn’t look at her. His attention remained on Dahl, who now twitched slightly on the floor. His fingers spasmed. His chest rose with a sharp, rattling breath.

“We’ve got to move him,” Pyne said, kneeling to examine Dahl. “His core temperature is dropping. Internal systems are destabilizing.”

“He’s not human, is he?” Chrysan whispered, the words escaping her before she could stop them.

Jas finally looked at her then. And for a moment—his gaze held hers with startling intensity. There was no cruelty in it, no anger, just a strange stillness… like something about her caught him off guard. He didn’t know who she was—had never seen her before—but he looked at her like he couldn’t look away. Like seeing her pulled something to the surface he couldn’t quite name. “No,” he said quietly. “He’s not.”

Chrysan’s heart thundered in her chest as she bolted after Kelly, the two of them trailing the large men who were now moving with urgency. Dahl’s body hung heavy between them, his arms draped over their shoulders, feet dragging across the floor.

The hallway blurred around her. Chrysan barely registered the neighbors peeking out of doors or the sound of their own frantic footsteps echoing off the walls. All she could see was Kelly, clinging to Dahl, and the strange fluid look of panic in the men’s eyes.

When they reached the vehicle parked out front—an unmarked, dark transport van that looked more military than medical—the side doors flew open. Inside, equipment was already humming to life. Jas barked out orders, and Pyne and Oak moved fast, easing Dahl onto a stretcher-like platform.

An IV bag was already hanging from a hook inside, filled with a glowing green liquid. One of the men—Oak—inserted the line into Dahl’s arm with practiced precision. The fluid began to flow immediately, pulsing slowly through the translucent tubing into Dahl’s veins.

“What is that?!” Kelly cried, her voice breaking. “What are you giving him?!”

Oak didn’t even glance at her as he responded. “It’s a specialized rehydrating compound—paired with concentrated nutrients. His system is collapsing. We don’t have time to explain.”

Chrysan sat frozen as the van pulled off, staring at the glowing green drip, her mind racing. Rehydrating? Her brows furrowed.

“He drank five bottles of water before you came,” she said, her voice tight. “Five. And he still looked like he was dying. Why would he need more? What is happening to him?”

For a moment, no one answered.

Then Jas turned from where he stood near Dahl’s head, his face unreadable. “Because your water can’t sustain what he is.”

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