The emergency extraction protocol activated instantly, folding reality around me like origami. My body dematerialized at the quantum level, converting to pure information as I entered the liminal space between dimensions—the transit corridor the Anunnaki had engineered for rapid evacuation.

Liminal space isn't meant for conscious perception. It's designed as a blindingly fast transition, a momentary non-existence before reconstitution at the designated safe point. A journey without awareness.

But something went wrong.

The extraction slowed, stretching what should have been microseconds into an unbearable eternity. The space around me—if "around" even applied here—pulsed with sickly gray-white light. I hung suspended in nothingness, neither solid nor spectral, caught between states of being.

Something had interfered with the protocol.

I attempted to activate emergency diagnostics, but my technological systems weren't responding. The only thing functioning was my consciousness itself, trapped in this impossible in-between.

That's when I heard it.

A sound that shouldn't exist in liminal space—a childlike giggle, high-pitched and innocent, echoing from everywhere and nowhere. It repeated, gaining volume, as if approaching from some unfathomable direction.

Hee hee hee...

There is no "front" in liminal space, no orientation, no physical reference points. Yet somehow, I knew it was coming from ahead of me. Instinctively, I tried to retreat, but my non-body remained fixed in non-place.

Hee hee hee hee...

The laughter grew louder, more insistent, acquiring a quality that transformed it from childlike innocence to something profoundly wrong. It reverberated through the liminal corridor, violating the fundamental laws that governed this space.

Nothing could enter here. Nothing could exist here except information in transit.

Hee hee hee HEE HEE HEE...

The laughter reached a fever pitch, and then—impossible—the fabric of liminal space itself tore open. A thin vertical rip appeared in the grayish void, widening to reveal absolute darkness beyond.

From this tear, a black appendage emerged—something like an arm but wrong in every conceivable way. It was completely featureless, like a three-dimensional silhouette, a blackness so absolute it seemed to consume the ambient light. The proportions were childlike but the movements unnaturally fluid, as if it weren't bound by joints or bone structure.

I couldn't scream. I had no lungs, no throat in this state. I could only watch as the arm extended toward me, impossibly long, reaching across distances that shouldn't exist here.

The black hand seized my throat with crushing force.

Suddenly, I was solid again. Somehow, this thing had forced my transition back to physical form while still in liminal space—something that should have atomized me instantly. The vice grip tightened, and I felt my windpipe constricting. My body, still bleeding from my encounter with Eli, now struggled for oxygen that didn't exist in this between-place.

Saliva dripped from my mouth as I gagged violently, my eyes bulging, hands clawing uselessly at the featureless black arm. The childish laughter continued unabated, now seeming to come from the appendage itself though it had no mouth, no face.

With terrifying strength, the arm yanked me forward, dragging me through the tear in liminal space. Reality reasserted itself with brutal abruptness as I was flung violently across Tris's lawn, tumbling end over end before slamming into a tree trunk.

The impact knocked what little breath I had from my lungs. Gasping and disoriented, I staggered to my feet, my Sentinel training overriding the pain and terror. Blood from my earlier wounds soaked my clothes, and fresh bruises bloomed across my body from the impact.

Night had fully descended on the neighborhood, the darkness broken only by the distant glow of streetlights. But as my enhanced vision adjusted, I saw it—the thing that had pulled me from liminal space.

It stood eight feet away, a black silhouette against the night. Humanoid but wrong—like a three-dimensional shadow with childlike proportions. A featureless head sat atop a slight body with thin limbs. As I watched, its face—if you could call it that—developed two perfect circular indentations where eyes should be, and a curved line appeared below them, forming a simplistic smile.

Hee hee...

The sound didn't come from a mouth. It seemed to emanate from the entire being, reverberating through the air between us.

My training had prepared me for many threats—human resistance, Oversoul manifestations, even direct confrontation with twin flames. But nothing in my briefings, nothing in the vast Anunnaki databases, had mentioned a being like this.

I reached for my backup weapon—a crystalline dagger designed to disrupt energy signatures—but my hand froze mid-motion as the shadowy figure tilted its head at an impossible angle, the smile widening unnaturally.

Hee hee hee...

Then it moved.

One moment it stood still; the next, it was directly in front of me, no transition between positions. Its arm extended, reaching for my throat again.

I barely managed to dodge, my enhanced reflexes carrying me into a backward roll. When I came up, the creature was already repositioning, its movements jerky yet fluid, like stop-motion animation played at high speed.

"What are you?" I gasped, voice ragged from the earlier choking.

It didn't answer. Instead, it lunged again, its arms elongating impossibly to swipe at me. I ducked and rolled to the side, but not quickly enough—one black hand caught my ankle, jerking me off balance. I hit the ground hard, the impact reopening one of the glass cuts from earlier.

The thing was on me in an instant, its weight surprisingly substantial for something that looked like living shadow. Its featureless face loomed inches from mine, the circular eyes and crescent smile the only features in the absolute darkness of its form.

Hee... hee... hee...

I struck upward with my dagger, expecting resistance, but the blade passed through the creature as if through smoke. Yet when its hands closed around my wrists, they were solid—impossibly strong, pinning me to the ground.

----------------------------------------

Tris

----------------------------------------

"What the hell is going on?" I demanded, staring through the shattered window at the bizarre scene unfolding on my lawn. A woman who looked disturbingly like a darker version of Eli was fighting... something. Something I couldn't quite focus on, like my eyes refused to process what they were seeing.

Eli grabbed my arm, pulling me back from the window. "Tris, listen to me carefully. What you're seeing is part of you. A shadow aspect that's awakened prematurely."

"Part of me? What are you talking about?"

"Every Sovereign has a shadow guardian," Eli explained rapidly, her eyes never leaving the window. "Yours has activated to protect you from the Sentinel."

"The woman out there? That's Sarah Dylan? The one you warned me about?"

Eli nodded grimly. "Yes. She's come for you directly—something I hoped wouldn't happen so soon. But your shadow sensed the threat and manifested to defend you."

I looked back out the window, straining to see clearly. Now that Eli had named it, I could almost make out the shape—a black, childlike figure moving with unnatural speed and precision. Something about it triggered a deep, primal fear in me, but also a strange sense of recognition.

"I don't understand. If it's part of me, why can't I control it?"

"Because you haven't integrated it yet," Eli said, her voice tense. "Shadow integration is supposed to happen gradually, usually after you've completed many, many System Zones. Yours has emerged early, likely triggered by the immediate threat to your safety."

"So that... thing... is trying to protect me?"

"Yes, but without your conscious direction, it's operating on pure instinct—eliminate the threat at any cost." Eli's face paled. "We need to contain it before it does something irreversible."

"How?"

"You need to call it back. It's your shadow—it will respond to you, even if the connection isn't fully formed yet."

I looked at her like she was insane. "Call it back? I don't even know what it is!"

Eli grabbed both my shoulders, her blue eyes intense. "Tris, listen to me. That shadow is a fragmented part of your higher self. It contains memories and abilities you haven't accessed yet. If it kills the Sentinel, there will be severe consequences—cosmic balances disrupted, attention drawn from entities we're not ready to face."

I swallowed hard, looking back to the window where the shadow—my shadow—was pinning Sarah Dylan to the ground, its featureless face inches from hers.

"What do I do?"

"Call to it. Use your voice, your will. Claim it as yours."

Taking a deep breath, I leaned out the broken window and shouted: "Hey! Stop!"

The shadow figure froze, its head rotating a full 180 degrees to look at me while its body remained facing Sarah. The sight made my stomach lurch.

"Come here," I called, surprising myself with the authority in my voice. "Leave her. Come to me."

The shadow tilted its head, considering. Then it released Sarah's wrists and rose to its feet in a motion too fluid to be natural.

"That's it," I encouraged, feeling a strange connection forming between us. "Come here. Now."

----------------------------------------

Sarah

----------------------------------------

The pressure on my wrists vanished abruptly as the shadow creature responded to Tris's command. It rose above me, its head twisted backward at an impossible angle to stare at him through the broken window.

I didn't waste the opportunity. Rolling away, I staggered to my feet, clutching my crystalline dagger despite its apparent uselessness against this entity.

The creature hadn't moved, caught between Tris's command and its apparent desire to eliminate me. I could see its form vibrating slightly, as if under conflicting directives.

"What is this thing?" I gasped, addressing no one in particular. My Sentinel programming was failing me completely—no tactical response, no combat protocol, no recognition pattern for what I was facing.

Through the window, I could see Eli watching with an expression that confirmed my suspicion—she knew exactly what this thing was.

"Last chance, Sarah," she called. "Leave now, while he's holding it back."

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

The shadow creature's head snapped back around to face me, the simple smile morphing into something more menacing—a jagged line that split its featureless face almost in half.

Awwww...

The sound was disappointed, petulant, like a child denied a toy.

"Sentinel," Tris's voice carried from the window, strained but commanding. "I don't know what's happening, but you should probably run. I don't think I can hold it for long."

He was right. I could see the shadow vibrating more violently now, its form occasionally blurring as if struggling against invisible restraints. Whatever control Tris had established was tenuous at best.

Strategic retreat was the only logical option. My extraction protocol was compromised, but I still had conventional escape methods. Without another word, I turned and sprinted across the lawn toward the street.

I made it three steps before the air in front of me tore open.

The shadow erupted from the tear, directly in my path, its arms extended like blades. It had abandoned its childlike proportions, stretching upward into a grotesque elongated form nearly nine feet tall.

HEE HEE HEE HEE...

The laughter had changed too—deeper, more resonant, vibrating through my engineered bones with enough force to blur my vision.

"Stop!" Tris shouted again, his voice more desperate. "I said STOP!"

The creature paused momentarily, its form trembling with barely contained aggression. It was that hesitation that saved me—I changed direction, diving sideways into a roll that carried me beneath its outstretched arms.

----------------------------------------

Tris

----------------------------------------

"It's not listening to me!" I shouted to Eli, panic rising in my chest. The black figure—my shadow, apparently—was ignoring my commands, pursuing Sarah with single-minded determination.

"Your connection isn't strong enough yet," Eli said, moving quickly around the room, gathering items from her bag. "We need to strengthen it immediately."

She pressed something into my hand—a small crystal that pulsed with golden light. "Hold this and focus on the shadow. Visualize a tether between you, a direct line connecting your consciousness to its."

"I don't know how to do that!"

"Yes, you do," Eli insisted. "This is Solaris's domain—connecting, integrating, illuminating darkness. It's who you are, Tris. You've just forgotten."

I clutched the crystal, feeling it warm in my palm. Outside, my shadow—the thing—was cornering Sarah against the fence at the edge of my property.

"Close your eyes," Eli instructed, her hands on my shoulders. "Feel for it. It's a part of you that was separated long ago, but it remembers. Call it by its true name."

"I don't know its name!"

"Yes, you do," Eli said softly. "Deep down, you know."

I closed my eyes, trying to focus past the fear and confusion. The crystal pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat, growing warmer. In the darkness behind my eyelids, I sensed something—a presence, familiar yet alien. Ancient. Powerful. Protective.

A name bubbled up from somewhere deep in my consciousness, a name I'd never heard before yet somehow knew intimately.

"Veldt," I whispered.

The crystal flared hot in my hand, and I felt something snap into place—a connection, tenuous but real, between my mind and the shadow creature outside.

"Veldt," I repeated, louder this time. "That's enough. Come back now."

----------------------------------------

Sarah

----------------------------------------

I was trapped. The fence behind me, the shadow creature—Veldt, Tris had called it—blocking my escape. Its elongated form had contracted again to childlike proportions, but that made it no less terrifying. If anything, the contrast between its innocent appearance and demonstrated power made it more disturbing.

"Nice shadow monster," I said, edging sideways along the fence. "Good little abomination."

Its circular eyes tracked my movement, the crescent smile unwavering. It seemed to be toying with me now, enjoying my fear in a way that felt disturbingly conscious.

Hee hee...

It took a single step forward, and I flinched. My Sentinel training, my enhanced capabilities, my years of preparation—all useless against this thing. For the first time since my creation, I felt truly helpless.

"Veldt," Tris's voice came again, stronger this time. "That's enough. Come back now."

The shadow froze, its head tilting as if listening. Then it turned slowly toward the house, the smile fading from its featureless face.

Awww...

Again, that disappointed sound, like a child being called away from play. But remarkably, it obeyed, walking back toward the house with unnatural smoothness.

I didn't wait to see what happened next. The moment the creature turned its back, I vaulted the fence and ran, pushing my damaged body to its limits. Behind me, I heard Tris's voice again—"Good. That's good. Come inside now"—and then nothing but the sound of my own labored breathing as I put distance between myself and that... thing.

Three blocks away, I ducked into an alley and collapsed against a wall, my legs finally giving out. Blood seeped through my clothing from multiple wounds, and my throat throbbed where Veldt had choked me. My hands trembled uncontrollably, another first for my engineered physiology.

What was that thing? Why hadn't the Anunnaki briefed me on its existence? If the Sovereigns had shadow protectors, that information would be crucial for any Sentinel operation.

Unless...

Unless they didn't know.

Or worse—unless they knew and didn't tell me because they never expected one to manifest this early, this powerfully.

I needed to report immediately, but my primary communication device had been damaged in the fight. The backup would work, but it meant returning to my apartment—something I wasn't sure I could physically manage in my current state.

Gathering my remaining strength, I forced myself back to my feet. One step at a time. One block at a time. My emergency medical protocols were already working to close the worst wounds, but the damage from Veldt's attack was different—it had affected me on an energetic level that my systems couldn't easily repair.

Somehow, I made it back to my apartment, securing the door behind me before collapsing onto the floor of my monitoring station. The screens around me displayed static—all my surveillance equipment near Tris's house had gone dark, either destroyed in the confrontation or deactivated by Eli's countermeasures.

With shaking hands, I activated my backup communication array, directing it to establish a secure connection with Nibiru. The symbols on the screen blurred as I waited, my consciousness threatening to fade.

"Sentinel Dylan." Lord Nergal's voice filled the room as his image materialized in the holographic projector. "Report your status immediately."

"Mission... compromised," I managed, my voice still raspy from Veldt's choking. "Extraction protocol failed. Subject has... unexpected defenses."

Nergal's expression sharpened. "Elaborate."

"The twin flame was as powerful as suspected, but there's something else. A shadow entity protecting the subject. It calls itself Veldt. Or he calls it that. I don't..." I trailed off, struggling to organize my thoughts through the pain and confusion.

Nergal's image flickered as he turned to speak to someone off-screen. When he faced me again, his expression had changed to something I'd never seen before on an Anunnaki face—fear.

"Describe this entity precisely," he commanded.

I recounted the encounter in detail—the childlike proportions, the featureless black form, the circular eyes and crescent smile that appeared and disappeared, the impossible movements, the ability to tear through liminal space itself.

With each detail, Nergal's expression grew darker. Finally, he held up a hand to stop me.

"This changes everything," he said, more to himself than to me. "If the shadow guardians are manifesting this early..."

"You knew about this?" I demanded, anger momentarily overriding my programming. "You knew these things existed and didn't warn me?"

Nergal's eyes snapped back to me, cold and evaluating. "Your tone is inappropriate, Sentinel. Remember your place."

"My place was nearly eliminated because I lacked critical information," I retorted, beyond caring about protocol. "This thing could have killed me. It wanted to kill me. If Tris hadn't stopped it—"

"The subject controlled it?" Nergal interrupted, leaning forward. "Already? Without any System Zone completions?"

"Yes. He called it by name—Veldt. It didn't want to obey, but it did."

Nergal was silent for a long moment, his ancient eyes calculating. "This is unprecedented. The shadow guardians shouldn't manifest until ORT2 at minimum, and control shouldn't be possible until ORT3 or higher."

"What are they? Where do they come from?"

"That's classified beyond your access level," Nergal replied automatically, then seemed to reconsider. "But given the circumstances... limited information may be tactically necessary."

He sighed, a surprisingly human gesture from an Anunnaki. "The shadow guardians are fragmented aspects of the Sovereigns' higher dimensional consciousness. When Tara exploded, the trauma of that event caused most souls to splinter. The most damaged, traumatic fragments were separated for protection—both for the souls themselves and for others."

"Tara?" I echoed. "A prehistoric civilization?"

"Much more than that, but yes. When we... when the cataclysm occurred, these shadow fragments were believed neutralized. Their reemergence was theoretically possible during Phoenix Ascension cycles, but usually requires extensive System Zone completion to rebuild the necessary connections."

I wiped blood from my face, trying to process this new information. "So Veldt is part of Tris? His traumatized fragment from some prehistoric disaster?"

"Essentially, yes. But not just any part—the part that remembers what happened. The part that contains the memories we've worked for nearly uncountable cycles to keep suppressed." Nergal's expression hardened. "This is why your mission is crucial, Sentinel. If the subject fully integrates with his shadow guardian, he'll remember everything. And if all twelve Sovereigns do the same..."

He didn't finish the thought, but he didn't need to. The implications were clear—whatever the Anunnaki had done in the distant past, whatever role they had played in the destruction of Tara, they desperately wanted it to remain forgotten.

"I need extraction," I said finally. "Real extraction. And medical attention. This entity damaged me in ways my systems can't repair."

"Extraction is authorized," Nergal confirmed. "A retrieval team is already en route to your location. Estimated arrival: seventeen minutes. Maintain your position and preserve your remaining functional capacity."

The hologram flickered and vanished, leaving me alone in the darkness of my apartment. I slumped against the wall, the adrenaline fading, allowing the full impact of pain and exhaustion to crash over me.

Seventeen minutes.

I closed my eyes, but immediately opened them again as the memory of Veldt's face—or lack thereof—floated in the darkness. Instead, I stared at the blank screens of my monitoring station, the static somehow comforting in its mundane normality.

Something had fundamentally changed tonight. Not just in the mission parameters or in my understanding of the threats we faced. Something had changed in me.

For the first time since my creation, I found myself questioning—not just my orders or my tactical approach, but my entire purpose. The look on Nergal's face when I described Veldt... he hadn't just been surprised or concerned. He had been afraid. And not just of the shadow guardian itself, but of what its appearance meant.

The Anunnaki weren't telling me everything. They never had been. I was their creation, their tool, designed for a specific purpose—but now I wondered if that purpose was what they claimed.

Protect humanity from dangerous knowledge? Maintain cosmic order? Guide controlled evolution?

Or hide their crimes? Suppress the truth? Maintain their power?

I had no way of knowing. My entire understanding of reality came from them, my creators. Every memory, every belief, every value—all carefully engineered to serve their purposes.

Even these doubts—were they truly mine? Or some unexpected glitch in my programming, triggered by trauma and exhaustion?

A tear slipped down my cheek, startling me with its warmth. I touched it with bloodied fingers, staring at the moisture with confusion. I hadn't known I could cry. Was that designed into me, this capacity for grief? Or was it an unintended consequence of making me human enough to pass among them?

Another tear followed, then another. Soon I was sobbing uncontrollably, my body shaking with emotion I didn't fully understand. Was I crying from physical pain? From fear? From the shock of confronting something my programming couldn't categorize?

Or was it something deeper—some fundamental recognition that the foundation of my existence might be built on lies?

I didn't know. I couldn't know. And that uncertainty was perhaps the most terrifying thing of all.

The tears continued, and I made no effort to stop them. For seventeen minutes, before the retrieval team arrived to take me back to my masters, I allowed myself this one small act of unscripted humanity.

In the silence of my failed mission, bleeding and broken on the floor of my surveillance post, I cried for myself—the self I was beginning to suspect I had never truly known.

Beep. Beep.

My backup communicator activated again. Wiping my tears, I composed myself to answer.

"Sentinel Dylan." It wasn't Nergal this time, but Lord Enzu himself—the High Councilor of the Anunnaki. His ageless face filled the holographic display, his vertical-pupiled eyes evaluating me with cold precision.

"High Councilor," I acknowledged, struggling to my feet out of ingrained respect. "I wasn't expecting—"

"The situation has escalated beyond normal parameters," he interrupted. "Your encounter with the shadow guardian changes our tactical approach entirely."

I waited, saying nothing. Something in his tone made me uneasy.

"Your retrieval team has been redirected," he continued. "New orders: you will maintain surveillance of the subject, but from maximum safe distance. No direct contact. No interference. Observation only."

"Sir?" I couldn't keep the confusion from my voice. "After what happened—"

"Precisely because of what happened," Enzu cut in. "The premature manifestation of a shadow guardian indicates accelerated development we didn't anticipate. We need to understand the pattern before intervening further."

"I'm not equipped for continued operation," I protested, gesturing to my injuries. "My systems are compromised. My protocols—"

"Will adapt," Enzu finished firmly. "You were designed with exceptional resilience, Sentinel Dylan. Your self-repair capabilities exceed your own awareness."

Something in his phrasing caught my attention. "My own awareness? What does that mean?"

Enzu's expression remained impassive, but a subtle tension appeared around his eyes. "It means you have resources you haven't yet accessed. Capabilities that activate under specific circumstances. Your encounter with the guardian may have triggered evolutionary protocols in your design."

"You're saying I'm... changing?"

"All consciousness evolves, Sentinel. Even designed consciousness." A cold smile touched his lips. "Perhaps especially designed consciousness."

I stared at him, trying to process this new information. "And if I refuse these orders? If I request extraction as originally authorized?"

The smile vanished. "That would be... unfortunate. You represent a significant investment of resources, Sentinel Dylan. Resources that could be... reallocated if necessary."

The threat couldn't have been clearer. Comply or be terminated. Adapt or be replaced.

Eli's words from days earlier echoed in my mind: "Unlike your creators, I don't believe any conscious being is merely a tool to be used and discarded. Even you, Sarah Dylan."

I straightened my posture, ignoring the pain that shot through my damaged body. "I understand, High Councilor. I will continue observation from a safe distance."

"Excellent." Enzu's expression relaxed slightly. "Additional equipment will be delivered to your secondary location. Use it to monitor from afar. And Sarah..."

The use of my first name caught me off guard.

"Remember who you are. Remember who made you. Remember your purpose." His eyes bored into mine through the holographic connection. "Loyalty is rewarded. Doubt is... corrected."

The communication ended abruptly, leaving me alone once more in the darkness.

"Remember who I am," I whispered to the empty room. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of doing."

Outside, dawn was breaking over the neighborhood, pale light creeping through the blinds of my apartment. In a house three miles away, Tris Morgan was probably just beginning to understand the nature of the shadow that protected him—the fragment of his higher self that remembered what the Anunnaki wanted forgotten.

And I was caught between them—between my creators and their secrets, between my programming and my emerging doubts, between what I was designed to be and what I might become.

For the first time in my existence, I genuinely didn't know what would happen next. And that terrified me almost as much as Veldt's featureless face and childlike laughter.

Almost.