Ada sat on the cold, smooth floor of her white room, legs crossed and eyes fixed on the wall in front of her. Her dark hair stood in stark contrast to the whiteness surrounding her, like an ink stain on a pristine sheet. She wore a white dress, nearly indistinguishable from the environment around her, making her look like a ghost floating in that sterile void.
Her small hands absentmindedly toyed with a loose thread on the hem of her gown—the only movement in that unnatural stasis. The room was a perfect cube, with three glass windows breaking the monotony of the walls: one directly in front of her and two on the sides. Through those openings, Ada could observe other small micro-environments parallel to her white prison.
Her gaze drifted to the window on her left, into a cell identical to hers. A boy with white hair was thrashing in a panic. His right arm twisted and transformed before her eyes, the skin covering with thick fur made of pure darkness, the fingers stretching into long, sharp black claws. It was a wolf's limb attached to a human body—a vision that would have terrified anyone. But she watched him with an unsettling calm, almost hypnotic.
The boy howled and hurled himself against the glass, his wild, desperate eyes meeting Ada's for an instant before returning to his futile attempts at escape. His claws scraped the smooth surface, producing a shrill sound that echoed in the Blendbreed's room.
Turning her head, the girl shifted her attention to the window on her right. There, another surreal scene unfolded before her eyes. A girl, perhaps just slightly older than her, pressed her face against the glass. Her eyes were those of a serpent: vertical pupils set in irises that shifted colors like a deranged kaleidoscope. Her forked tongue darted between her lips as she hissed incomprehensible words, her breath fogging the glass in concentric circles that appeared and vanished with the rhythm of her exhalation.
Ada watched her fellow captives with a mix of fascination and terror. A part of her wanted to look away, to hide in a corner and shut her eyes. But the other part—a version of herself that kept growing stronger—couldn't help but watch, absorbing every detail.
The wolf-boy and the snake-girl continued their desperate escape attempts. They screamed, scratched, pounded against the glass with a ferocity she couldn't understand. She remained still, silent, as if fearing that the slightest movement might draw attention.
Hours passed, marked only by the changing intensity of light filtering through the window in front of her. She didn't know whether it was day or night, and she certainly had no idea of the date. Time seemed meaningless in that place. She wouldn't have been able to count the days spent there even if she had wanted to. She couldn't even remember the day she was brought to the Orphanage. If she relied solely on her memories, she might have convinced herself she had always lived there—but she knew that wasn't the truth. Once, she had been free. She had a family in the Mortal World.
The door of the wolf-boy's cell opened, and figures in white coats entered. Ada couldn't make out their faces, but she saw them restrain the boy and drag him away despite his howls of protest. The entrance shut behind them, and the cell was left empty.
The little girl's heart sped up—she could imagine what was about to happen. She waited, holding her breath, as the minutes dragged on. Then, as expected, the same scene repeated itself in the snake-girl's cell. The same faceless figures, the desperate struggle, and the crushing silence that followed.
And finally, she was the only one left.
The cells on either side of her were empty—mirrors of the loneliness swelling inside her. She curled up, hugging her knees to her chest, her gray eyes staring into nothingness.
There were no more screams, no more attempts at escape. Only the blinding white and the growing awareness that soon—very soon—it would be her turn.
She began to tremble when she heard someone fiddling near her cell. Despite the eerie calm that had filled her before, in the face of the inevitable, a wave of terror surged in her chest. She saw the doctors open the door without making a sound, as if even noise was forbidden in that sterile, impersonal place. The cold hand of one of them settled on her thin shoulder. Ada shivered—not from the contact, but from the feeling of being at the mercy of those figures who seemed more like automatons than human beings.
She didn't resist. Not like the wolf-boy or the snake-girl had. Their desperate protests had only made things worse. Ada knew that fighting would be useless. She rose, hesitating slightly, as the doctors led her out of the bright white room that had imprisoned her all that time. The silence was absolute, broken only by the sound of the doctors' rubber soles against the floor—a sound that seemed to ricochet off the smooth, empty surfaces. The neon lights above her buzzed, casting a pale shadow over her slender figure.
When they reached a different door—larger, heavier—Ada felt her fate about to unfold. Her heartbeat quickened, and she felt her throat tighten for a moment. She had promised herself not to resist, but the primal instinct of humans took hold of her.
The door opened with a metallic hiss, revealing a room that was the complete opposite of the one she had just been taken from. Darkness reigned—so thick it swallowed the light and choked out any trace of warmth.
The Blendbreed began to thrash wildly, screaming for help.
"No! No, no! Please!"
Her weak voice made the plea sound like nothing more than the whimper of a motherless pup.
It was all useless.
The doctors shoved Ada inside and closed the door before she could react. The moment she crossed the threshold of the new room, the darkness enveloped her like a suffocating blanket. The contrast with the blinding white of her cell was so extreme that for a moment she thought she had gone blind. The air was thick—she couldn't even tell with what—charged with an energy that would have made the hairs on her arms stand on end, had the doctors not shaved them off constantly.
A thin beam of light sliced through the room like a silver blade, revealing blue dust particles dancing in the stagnant air. That solitary ray only served to deepen the surrounding darkness, casting shadows that moved at the edges of her vision—something that should have been impossible.
Ada took a hesitant step forward.
The sound of her bare feet on the cold floor echoed through the vast room, making it seem much larger than she could have imagined. She strained to see beyond the beam of light, trying to give shape to the shadows that surrounded her.
That's when she saw them.
Two gleaming eyes stared at her from the darkness. They didn't blink, didn't move—they simply watched her with an intensity that pinned her in place. She felt her heart race in her chest, the beat so loud she feared it could be heard across the room.
The wolf-boy and the snake-girl had been brought here before her—but they never returned. That could mean only one thing.
Dead.
Fear was surpassing every imposed limit.
She wanted to move, to run, to hide—but her body wouldn't respond. It was as if those eyes had the power to paralyze her, holding her to the floor with invisible chains. Her breathing grew labored. The air became hard to breathe.
Then, from deep within the darkness, she heard a human voice echo powerfully.
"You have to run if you don't want to be taken," he said. "I'm curious to see what animal you'll become."
The tone was both a warning and a suggestion.
Terrifying.
The Blendbreed felt a chill crawl down her spine. The voice belonged to the creature hidden in the shadows—the owner of those unblinking yellow eyes, which continued to stare at her.
It was a distant sound, perhaps the brush of the creature's paw against the floor, that broke the spell holding her in place.
In an instant, Ada turned and began to run. She had no idea where she was going—the darkness was so dense she couldn't make out anything around her. She ran, guided only by instinct and desperation, arms stretched out in front of her in an attempt to avoid invisible obstacles. The shadows seemed to move with her, dancing at the edges of her vision, stretching and shrinking like living creatures. The girl had the overwhelming sense that the darkness was trying to grab her, to pull her back.
Behind her, in the distance, she could hear the rhythmic sound of heavy footsteps. The creature was following her—she was sure of it. She didn't dare turn around, afraid to see those yellow eyes drawing closer. The sound echoed through the room, blending with the frantic pounding of her heart.
Faster!
She kept running, despite the burning in her lungs and her bare feet slapping against the cold floor. The endless days spent in the white room had destroyed her athletic ability, and that made it even harder to remain rational. She didn't know how big the room was, or if there was even an exit. Her brain was focused solely on survival. She had to keep moving, keep fleeing the threat hidden in the darkness.
And hope it doesn't catch me.
The creature's words echoed in her mind—she had to escape if she didn't want to be taken.
But how can I escape? And where to?
As she ran through the endless dark, she realized that perhaps fleeing was only the beginning of a plan unknown to her. She had always been good at reasoning, even if that hadn't helped much in that place.
This doesn't make sense…
Her brain couldn't finish the thought. She was too afraid to comprehend that the doctors had brought her there for a specific reason. She just wanted to survive, not think—like any other girl her age.
The shadows continued to dance around her as she hurled herself toward an undefined goal, guided only by the will to avoid capture and the hope of waking up from that endless nightmare.
"Ada…" called a voice in her mind.
Without warning, the darkness began to dissolve, like fog under sunlight. The shadows around her shattered. She staggered, her steps growing uncertain. The world was becoming clearer—but also more unstable. Her feet grew heavy—something was holding them down.The darkness, now almost entirely gone, revealed a space she couldn't focus on.
Her knees buckled under her weight. She collapsed to the ground, unable to continue, her body exhausted, her breath ragged. Her hands trembled. Her head spun—she was confused, unable to understand what was happening. Then the world went dark again, turning into the black void of unconsciousness.
Why me?
── ⋆⋅❂⋅⋆ ──
Ada awoke, her gaze fixed on the white ceiling of her single room.
She lifted her head with difficulty. Every muscle in her body ached, while confusion mingled with the fear still coursing through her. She was back in her cell. But something was missing.
Turning slowly, she saw that the cells on either side of hers were still empty. The wolf-boy and the snake-girl were gone. The oppressive silence she had learned to fear was now even deeper.
So they really are dead…
She curled up against the wall, hugging her knees.
The days followed one another in a monotonous symphony of terror for the daughter of Rutia.Every awakening brought with it the same agonizing awareness: the hunt was about to begin again. The creature—which she had come to understand was a lion, with its piercing yellow eyes—was always waiting. A constant, menacing presence that followed her each day through the labyrinth of shadows.
Ada ran, producing a frantic rhythm that echoed through the deserted hall. Her breath mingled with the sound of feline footsteps trailing her—always at a constant distance, never too close, never too far. It was a macabre dance, an endless chase in which the predator never truly sought to catch the prey, nor allowed her to escape.
Over time, Ada's initial fear transformed into something more complex and tormenting. Rage began to boil within her, a helpless fury against her situation, against the lion, against whoever had brought her there. She clenched her fists as she ran, her nails digging into her palms, leaving tiny crescents of blood.
Her physical abilities grew rapidly, yet despite that awareness, she never found the courage to confront the hunter.
She was just a frightened little girl.
She felt trapped in a cruel game, a sadistic experiment whose end she couldn't foresee.Despair seeped into her heart like a slow-acting poison, corroding her hope day by day. The environment around her seemed to feed on her anguish. The paths twisted into an incomprehensible maze—sometimes so narrow her shoulders grazed the walls, other times so wide she felt tiny and exposed. Each day, the routes were rewritten from scratch, making it impossible to memorize the right positions to navigate her escape.
The echo of her steps haunted her, bouncing off the walls and returning to her like a spectral chorus celebrating her flight.
"Ada, stop running… come to the lion," the executioner repeated each time.
The girl soon learned that the great hall where she was imprisoned wasn't truly devoid of light. There were tiny holes in the darkness. During her escape, there were moments when the lion allowed her a pause. When she managed to find a temporary hiding place, Ada observed the outside world through the small cracks in the walls. The energy of the sun—or perhaps the reflected glow of the moon, she could no longer tell—filtered weakly, casting slender beams of light through the gloom.
She crouched down, trying to catch her breath.
Those slivers were like portals to another world, a place of freedom and normalcy that belonged to a different life—one almost forgotten.
I wonder what's out there, beyond the walls of this prison…
She saw fragments of sky, sometimes blue, sometimes gray, and wondered if one day she would feel the wind on her skin again, or the grass beneath her feet.
But those moments of contemplation were always brief, and she knew it. The sound of the lion's footsteps, always drawing closer, yanked her back to reality. She resumed running, driven by desperation and a survival instinct that refused to die.
── ⋆⋅❂⋅⋆ ──
Three months later.
Soon, the daily apathy turned into resilience and cautious awareness. She had become sharper—a young feline in adolescence.
The doctor who had just shaved her body hair shut the door and walked away. Ada waited a few minutes, then approached the door and removed the piece of fabric she had torn from her dress.
It worked, she thought. I managed to fool him and avoid getting locked in again.
She slipped past her cell and moved silently through the corridors, her steps as light as feathers on the cold floor. The endless days of fleeing had made her agile and stealthy, able to blend into the shadows as if she were part of them. Her breath was controlled, nearly imperceptible, as she approached a dim light filtering from a door left slightly ajar.
Muted voices caught her attention. She pressed her body against the wall, heart pounding in her chest as she strained to listen. She recognized the detached tone of the doctors and researchers she had learned to fear.
"Subject 37 continues to progress, but has yet to show any indication of being a carrier," said a male voice, thick with frustration. "We've exhausted all standard protocols."
"We can't go on like this indefinitely," replied a woman, her tone sharp as a scalpel. "The resources we're investing in this experiment could be better used elsewhere."
She was the only one left in the white halls—no one else had been brought in.
They're talking about me.
Subject 37: Ada Bonaventura.
A number, not a person.
An experiment, not a child.
"She hasn't demonstrated any power," the man continued. "She doesn't fail the tests, but she doesn't pass them either. The lion plays with her instead of killing her—why should she be different from the others?"
"It's the only reason she's still alive. She must be a carrier."
The lion. The one who chased her day after day. He wasn't just a tormentor—he was an executioner.
And all the others… he must have devoured them.
Her mind spun, struggling to make sense of the new and terrifying reality. Months of self-created purpose shattered in a single moment. The young girl began to tremble.
She thought she had grown strong, but she was wrong.
She was weak. She was a prey.
"Maybe we made a miscalculation," suggested a third voice, younger and uncertain. "Her genealogy suggested exceptional potential. The daughter of the goddess Rutia should be capable of manifesting occult abilities."
Daughter of Rutia? The goddess? Abilities linked to the occult? Could it be true? Or is it another cruel lie? My mother can't be a deity!
She focused, trying to summon any memory tied to her, but failed.
"Genealogy or not," snapped the woman, "we can't afford to ignore the facts. Weeks of testing and not even a hint of power. The higher-ups are losing patience."
"What do you propose?"
A heavy silence followed. Ada held her breath, her heart pounding so loudly she feared it might give her away.
"I believe it's time to end the experiment," she said, her voice cold and devoid of emotion. "Prepare everything. The lion is hungry—let him devour her."
Silence.
No further explanation was needed.
The lion was hungry.
He wouldn't chase her anymore. He would kill her.
A wave of panic crashed over her, threatening to consume her entirely. She had to bite her lip until she tasted blood to keep from letting out a whimper. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, images of death and destruction spinning without pause.
She was having a panic attack.
While the voices in the room continued to discuss procedures and protocols, she felt something shift inside her. It was as if a switch had been flipped, awakening something ancient and powerful that had lain dormant deep within her.
For a moment, she saw the world differently. The shadows around her thickened, becoming almost tangible. She could feel energy pulsing through the walls, the floor, the air itself. It was as if the darkness was whispering a response to her desperate cry—but the moment passed.
The girl slipped, but managed to get back on her feet in time to resume a less-than-silent escape. She turned a corner and was forced to stop, her breath ragged, lungs burning.
I have to run! Move, body!
The doctors were on her in an instant, pinning her down before she could break free again. She closed her eyes just as the sharp sting of a needle in her neck forced her into rest.
── ⋆⋅❂⋅⋆ ──
Shuuush!
The sound of something shifting accompanied Ada's awakening. She opened her eyes wide and scrambled to her feet as her mind kicked into gear, trying to process where she was.
Two golden eyes stared at her in silence.
"Come, go on," whispered the enemy in the dark, as adrenaline surged through her entire body.
The Blendbreed prepared to face her fate, like a victim stripped of all hope. If she was to die, then so be it. She began to run through the dark corridors, breath shallow, heart pounding frantically in her chest. The sound of the lion's steps behind her was closer, more urgent. She could almost feel the beast's hot breath on her neck, a constant reminder of its presence.
She turned a corner—it was a dead end.
She felt pure, uncontrollable panic rise to the surface.
The lion's roar echoed behind her, so close that Ada could feel the vibrations in the floor beneath her bare feet. She didn't turn, but she suspected she had been caught.
There was no more time. No more space. She had reached the end of the line.
With her back to the wall, she chose to turn around, finally ready to see the figure of her hunter. The lion's yellow eyes gleamed in the darkness, fixed on her with a predatory intensity that froze her blood. The beast advanced slowly, its dark skin beginning to glow in the shadows, outlining its form.
He was savoring the final moments of the hunt.
He had caught his prey.
The Blendbreed felt a tangle of emotions erupt within her—fear, panic, despair, and a fierce, searing anguish.
According to the doctors, she was the daughter of a goddess.
It couldn't end like this. She didn't want to die like a rat in a trap.
"No! No!"
She screamed at the top of her lungs. "No!"
I want to live…
It was in that moment—on the edge of the dark Overworld—that she felt something break within her chest.
Or awaken, perhaps.
What's happening to me? she wondered, terrified.
The answer was simple, and common to all Blendbreeds: magic.