Page 96 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

Water drips from my soaked clothes as I fight to catch my breath, my heart pounding from both exertion and the terrifying drop below.

Can't stay here.

The memory of that massive metal sphere is too fresh, too threatening. Another could come crashing down at any moment, sealing this escape route forever.

I have to move…

I force my trembling muscles to work, climbing the ladder rung by rung until I spot an opening above the tunnel I just fell from.

The panel comes loose with a bit of effort, revealing a smaller passage – some kind of emergency exit or maintenance tunnel. Ipull myself through, grateful for any route that leads away from that watery hell.

Following the hazard signs painted on the walls, I move through the narrow space as alarms blare throughout the facility. The sound bounces off metal walls, creating a cacophony of warning and chaos.

Intruders!

I hear voices below shouting.

We have multiple intruders in the facility.

I pause at a junction in the ventilation system, pressing my back against the cool metal as I try to process everything that's happened. The shadows remain quiet, but my mind races with questions and concerns.

Where did Azurite and Luna end up?

I didn't see them at the bottom of that pit, which means there must have been another tunnel,another path.The thought of them out there somewhere, possibly injured or captured, makes my chest tight with unfamiliar worry.

Regrouping is impossible now.

The reality of that hits hard.

The best I can hope for is that they find their way out, that somehow fate will give us a chance to meet again in freedom.

The connection forged in that cell feels too important to lose forever.

My breath finally steadies as I contemplate how I managed to break free of the killing instinct earlier. How I stopped myself from becoming their perfect weapon, their mindless M.U.S.E. It was different this time – like finding a door in what I thought was a solid wall.

Maybe I can control it.

The thought is revolutionary.

What if instead of fighting the monster they created, I could direct it? Channel it? Find some balance between the weapon and the woman.

After all, who would I really be hurting?

The guards and scientists of Ravenscroft are no innocents. They're the ones who tortured us, treating us like lab rats, and in turn, morphed me into something caught between human and weapon.

They're all enemies here.

Every white coat who took notes while we screamed.

Every guard who watched impassively as we suffered.

Every person who helped keep us caged.

The shadows might be quiet, but my own thoughts grow clearer. I don't need their whispers to know what needs to be done. Don't need their guidance to understand that survival now means embracing what they made me – but on my own terms.

My hands clench as I remember every injection, every test, every moment of agony they inflicted. The rage is there, familiar as breathing, but now it feels different. Controlled. Directed.

Not a storm that drowns everything, but a blade that can cut with precision.

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