Juson tightened his grip around the steering wheel as the hospital slowly emerged through the darkness ahead. The road was almost empty, allowing the headlights to stretch far into the distance before disappearing into the night, yet his thoughts refused to travel with the car. They remained trapped somewhere between Hakiten's house and the hospital room where Herik still lay unconscious. Every conversation replayed itself in fragments. Hakiten's convenient explanation about staying at the supermarket, the strange sealed boxes hidden inside his room, the unfinished glass cube filled with moving red particles, the torn papers, the hovering presence outside the lobby, everything overlapped until none of it could be separated from the rest. It no longer felt like isolated incidents occurring around different people. Instead, they appeared to belong to one invisible chain, each event pulling the next into existence. Before reaching the hospital gates, Juson reached for his phone and called Yokina. She answered immediately, her voice carrying the exhaustion of someone who had been waiting for bad news instead of hoping for good.
"What happened there?" she asked without greeting him first. Juson remained silent for a brief moment before answering quietly, "I'll explain everything when I reach the hospital." His words sounded controlled, but only because he forced them to remain that way. "And Herik?" "There was a blackout here," Yokina replied. "The electricity has finally started coming back. They're preparing to examine him again." The call ended almost immediately afterwards. Juson lowered the phone beside him and pressed harder against the accelerator. The hospital entrance appeared only moments later, its white walls illuminated by lights that still seemed uncertain whether they wanted to remain alive. Several bulbs along the entrance corridor flickered once every few seconds before stabilising again, as though the building itself had not fully recovered from whatever had interrupted its power. He parked hurriedly, stepped out without locking the car, and walked rapidly through the emergency entrance, where nurses continued moving between wards as though the interruption had never happened. Yet as he progressed farther into the corridor, he noticed that every few metres the ceiling lights dimmed almost imperceptibly before returning to full brightness. The changes lasted barely a heartbeat, subtle enough for everyone else to ignore them completely.
"Still unstable..." he murmured almost unconsciously. Yokina remained seated outside Herik's room exactly where he had left her earlier. Her hands were tightly clasped together, resting against her knees, while her eyes never wandered away from the closed door. She only realised Juson had returned when he stopped beside her. "I didn't even hear you," she admitted quietly. Before she could continue speaking, Juson explained what had happened. "Hakiten stayed back," he said. "He told me he had work at the supermarket." Yokina listened absentmindedly, though it was obvious that almost none of the words actually reached her. Her thoughts remained imprisoned inside the room beyond the door where Herik still fought an invisible battle.
Before either of them could continue their conversation, the door opened and a nurse stepped into the corridor carrying a clipboard. "We're transferring the child to another examination room," she informed them. "Please remain outside while the doctors prepare." Juson immediately stepped forward. "Can we come with him?" The nurse hesitated before glancing back inside. A few seconds later the doctor himself emerged, adjusting his spectacles while reading through Herik's preliminary reports. "You may accompany him," he answered calmly, "but neither of you is to interfere with the equipment unless I specifically ask for your assistance." They both nodded without hesitation.
Moments later Herik's hospital bed rolled slowly into the corridor. He remained unconscious beneath the white blanket, his breathing steadier than before, although every rise and fall of his chest still appeared painfully fragile. Juson and Yokina followed beside the moving bed as it disappeared into another room farther down the hallway. The examination chamber contained an ageing MRI machine positioned against one wall, its once-white paint faded yellow with time while several metallic panels carried scratches from decades of constant use. The doctor glanced at the machine almost apologetically before speaking. "It isn't ideal," he admitted honestly. "Normally I'd refer him elsewhere, but moving him again in his current condition would carry unnecessary risks."
The nurses carefully transferred Herik onto the narrow scanning table before securing his position. The doctor switched on the machine, and a deep mechanical vibration slowly filled the room. The old magnets awakened with a heavy humming sound that gradually settled into a steady rhythm. "Please stay behind the safety line." The table slowly slid inward until only Herik's head remained visible outside the cylindrical opening. The doctor took his seat before the monitor and prepared the first scan. He expected very little. The hospital's MRI system had become notoriously unreliable over the years. Weak magnetic strength usually produced blurred images that often required repeated examinations.
The scan began. Static danced across the monitor. Slowly, faint outlines emerged. Then, almost unbelievably, the image sharpened. The structures of Herik's brain became visible with remarkable precision, revealing details that the ageing equipment should never have been capable of producing. The doctor leaned forward instinctively, his eyebrows lifting higher with every passing second. "...Impossible." Before anyone could understand what they were witnessing, Herik suddenly moved inside the machine. The image instantly distorted. "Hold his head still!" the doctor shouted urgently. Without stopping to think, Juson rushed forward and gently placed both hands around Herik's head, preventing any further movement. Almost immediately the violent distortion vanished. The monitor returned to perfect clarity as though nothing had happened.
The doctor focused entirely upon the brain scan, too fascinated by the unexpected image quality to notice something else appearing upon the screen. Alongside Herik's head, Juson's hands had also entered the scanning field. Beneath the skin of his fingers, faint dark clusters drifted slowly through the tissue, gathering around his fingertips like microscopic particles moving with deliberate purpose. Neither man noticed them. "That's enough," the doctor finally instructed. "You can let go." Juson stepped back. The image remained stable. The doctor quickly saved the completed scan before preparing the next examination. "We need to examine his spinal cord."
Together they carefully turned Herik onto his stomach. As they adjusted his position, Herik's eyelids slowly opened. His breathing remained weak, his face pale beneath the fluorescent lighting. "I want to go to Mom..." The words barely escaped his lips. "You will," Juson replied gently, forcing reassurance into his voice. "Just stay still a little longer." The table slid back inside the scanner. The second examination began almost immediately. This time the monitor displayed Herik's spinal column with astonishing clarity from the very beginning. The doctor's concentration deepened as the vertebrae appeared one after another across the screen. Then his expression changed completely. Running alongside the spinal cord, embedded throughout its length, were dozens of clustered formations unlike anything he had ever encountered. They resembled countless microscopic groups of particles attached directly to the nervous system itself.
"What..." He leaned closer. "...What are those?" He enlarged the image. The ageing MRI suddenly groaned beneath the strain. The lights flickered violently. Herik cried out in pain. His body began trembling uncontrollably against the restraints while the image dissolved into chaotic distortion. "I need assistance!" the doctor shouted, reaching desperately toward the control panel. Juson instinctively stepped forward. "Don't touch him!" the doctor warned sharply. But Herik cried again. "Papa..." That single word shattered every instruction. Ignoring the doctor's warning entirely, Juson rushed forward and firmly held Herik's legs to stop him from moving. The change was immediate. The violent vibrations ceased. The flickering lights stabilised completely. The distorted monitor cleared once again until every detail became perfectly visible.
The doctor stared speechlessly at the screen before whispering almost to himself, "...It's stable." Juson followed his gaze toward the monitor. That wasn't coincidence. He had felt it happen. The moment he touched Herik, everything had returned to normal. "Keep holding him," the doctor said urgently while reaching for the save controls. "I need to preserve this image." Juson hesitated. His thoughts raced. Then, almost unconsciously, he removed both hands. The response was instantaneous. The MRI machine shut down completely. Its humming vanished. The monitor turned black. The room fell into absolute silence.