Poppy’s breath caught in her throat as the can rattled against the floor, the sound slicing through the silence like a blade.

Yarnaby froze.

The creature’s head snapped toward the noise, and its hollow eyes locked onto her. Its entire body tensed, its fibers tightening in a way that made her stomach twist.

No, no, no—

Then, just as Yarnaby’s limbs flexed—ready to lunge—

A voice cut through the tension.

“Yarnaby.”

The creature immediately turned, its instincts overriding its previous focus.

Poppy’s heart pounded as she looked down, catching sight of a figure standing a few feet away.

A woman.

She couldn’t see her face—only the smooth, white silvery waves of her hair and the way she stood, calm and composed. Yarnaby, despite his previous hostility, reacted as if greeting an old friend. He padded toward the woman, then—

Rolled onto the ground. Like a dog seeking attention.

Poppy didn’t waste the opportunity.

With a final pull, she scrambled into the vent and turned back just in time to get one last glimpse of the mysterious figure below.

She was young. Beautiful.

Not like the doctors.

Not like the scientists who roamed these halls.

Poppy narrowed her eyes slightly.

Who was she?

But there wasn’t time to wonder.

She clutched the vial close and disappeared into the vents, leaving the factory’s mysteries behind her—at least for now.

---

Yazmina took one last look at the vent, her sharp eyes lingering on the small, dark opening where the peculiar doll had vanished. Then, she shifted her gaze downward.

Yarnaby was still sprawled on the cold floor, his dark, tangled fibers twisting slightly as he rolled onto his back, limbs tucked close like an oversized, sentient ball of yarn. His button eyes gleamed in the dim light, staring up at her expectantly.

Yazmina sighed, placing a hand on her hip. “What are you doing here?”

Yarnaby let out a low, warbling sound—somewhere between a purr and a chuff. His limbs wiggled slightly, as if trying to appear harmless.

Yazmina narrowed her eyes. “Did you follow that doll?”

Yarnaby stilled.

The lack of response was telling.

She exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Of course you did.”

Yarnaby made a soft fluff noise, then rolled upright onto his stubby legs. He gave a gentle shake, the fibers of his body settling into place before he let out a small, whiny huff.

Yazmina arched a brow. “Don’t look at me like that. You weren’t supposed to be out.”

Yarnaby immediately sat back, lifting his front limbs in what could only be described as an attempt at looking apologetic.

Yazmina crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Oh, no. That’s not gonna work on me.”

Yarnaby scooted slightly closer. His fibers wove and unspooled subtly, mimicking the twitch of dog ears drooping in guilt.

She sighed again, shaking her head. “Come on. Back to your cage before someone notices.”

Yarnaby let out a defeated chirp but obediently trotted after her as she led him back toward containment.

Once inside, he hesitated before stepping into the cage. Yazmina rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that look. Sawyer will let you out later.”

Yarnaby still didn’t move.

Yazmina huffed. “Fine.” She crouched slightly, reaching out to ruffle his fibers the way someone would pat a dog’s head. “Good boy.”

Yarnaby immediately perked up, his fibers fluffing excitedly.

Yazmina smirked. “You’re ridiculous.”

With that, she gently nudged him inside, securing the lock before stepping back. Yarnaby watched her with wide, button-like eyes, his body already shifting in preparation to curl up.

Yazmina glanced once more at the vent.

Poppy…

This night had taken an unexpected turn.

And she had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

As she turned to leave, her thoughts tangled in the uncertainty of what she had just witnessed, a soft noise caught her attention.

A rustling.

Faint, but not from Yarnaby.

Yazmina tensed.

Slowly, she shifted her gaze to the far side of the lab, where the dim glow of emergency lights cast long shadows across the room. Nothing moved. But she knew better than to trust silence in this place.

For a moment, she debated staying—investigating. But the weight of the night already pressed heavy on her shoulders. Poppy’s presence, the stolen vial, Yarnaby’s unexpected outing—this was too much coincidence for comfort.

So, with a final glance at the empty room, she turned and walked away.

But as she exited, deep in the dark, hidden beneath the shelves of old equipment—

Something else was watching.

Something that had been there the whole time.

And it had seen everything.

---

Darkness swallowed everything.

Then—

Screams.

I stand in the center of it all.

Chaos. Screams. The scent of iron is thick in the air.

People are running. Their footsteps pound against the floor, erratic and desperate. I watch as they stumble, their bodies slamming into walls, each other—anything in their path as they try to escape.

But there is no escape.

They fall. One by one.

Teeth sink into flesh. Claws tear through skin. Plastic hands twist heads the wrong way until they snap. Their screams echo off the cold steel walls, rising in a chorus of agony.

And yet—

I do not move.

I just watch.

My hands are still. My breath is even.

I feel nothing.

No fear. No sorrow. No horror.

Only stillness.

Like I have seen this before.

Like I have been here before.

Then, suddenly—

Everything shifts.

I am no longer standing.

I am lying down.

The factory is gone. The screams are gone.

Silence.

But something is wrong.

My back aches. A deep, sharp pain that spreads through my spine, pressing against my ribs like something is trying to force its way out.

I lift my hands.

Blood.

Dripping down my fingers, warm and thick.

I don’t flinch. I don’t gasp.

I only stare.

A weight presses against my palm, familiar and foreign all at once.

Scissors.

The silver blades are slick, wet with fresh crimson.

A fresh kill.

Mine.

A slow breath leaves my lips.

And then—pain.

White-hot, unbearable, like my body is breaking apart from the inside.

Something is pushing, shifting, twisting beneath my skin, clawing its way up my spine.

Something that does not belong.

I bite down hard, jaw clenched, muscles locked.

What is this?

My fingers tighten around the scissors.

Then—

A voice.

A whisper slithered through the silence.

"Not much longer now."

The voice was neither male nor female, neither human nor machine. It was something else.

And it was inside her head.

Her grip tightened around the scissors.

"You were made for this, Yazmina."

The whisper turned into a low, distorted chuckle.

She gritted her teeth, a wave of cold rage twisting in her gut. No. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t something to be controlled.

The pain sharpened.

Her vision blurred at the edges.

She felt something behind her, a shadow stretching long and jagged, its presence wrapping around her like a second skin.

And then—

Everything snapped.

A surge of something unnatural flooded her veins.

And for the first time…

She smiled.

Sinister. Cold.

Like she had been waiting for this all along.

Darkness swallowed everything once more.

---

Yazmina’s eyes snapped open.

Her body was drenched in sweat, her breath slow but steady. The room was silent, empty. But she could still feel it.

That pain. That shift.

She flexed her fingers. They were clean. No blood. No scissors.

Just a dream.

Right?

But deep in her chest, something stirred.

Something waiting.

Something inevitable.