*Layla's POV
Three years, and we'll all be dead.
To be precise, only our world—Solaris—will die. When it happens, we will all be erased, disappear without a trace, and no one will remember us.
Humans will still be alive. There may be a few minor conflicts here and there, but their world will be fine. The gods love those who have never sinned. Unlike us, who were born bound to sin.
I've always wondered.
For a long time, if the Elemens had never broken God's rule, Solaris would never have existed. If that were the case, would we still exist as ordinary humans—or not at all?
The vision came to me six years ago when I was ten. It was right as fire consumed my village, and someone gave me their last smile before leaving me behind.
At that moment, he asked me a promise to find him someday.
I still don't understand why. He could've found me first. With his power, it should've been easy.
But six years have passed with no word and clue.
The only explanation I can think of is that he was in trouble—though it's hard to imagine him struggling with any kind of problem.
But yet, that's the most reasonable assumption.
For the past year, I've spent time gathering information. And all of it led me here.
Even though, honestly, this place bothers me. There's no way he couldn't escape from here.
So why? What really happened to him?
I even let myself get captured on purpose.
A human research facility. Since they took me, I've learned a few things. This facility was initially built to study natural anomalies. But over the past decade, its purpose has changed.
They're trying to study us—Weavers—people who can control the elements.
Over the last four days, they've run all sorts of tests. Taken my blood, examined my internal organs, and conducted dangerous experiments to force me to use my elemental powers.
I don't know what kind of data they've gathered, though I've always managed to end each test without using my powers.
At least the room they're keeping me in is somewhat livable. A small, square room with a thin bed, a table, two plastic chairs for meals, and a booth in the corner that serves as a bathroom. Everything is stark white, including the basic furnishings.
To humans, Weavers are foreign entities—a threat to their existence.
So even in a locked room with a metal door that only opens with an ID card, they still restrain my hands with metal cuffs. My wrists are bound and completely enclosed. The cuffs are heavy, though lined with a soft fabric on the inside. They restrict my movement—preventing any worst-case scenarios if I get bored and decide to go for a walk.
If my guess is right, it's 9 AM now. And like the past four days, someone opens my door.
She stands in the doorway, brown eyes peering at me from behind thick glasses. "Do you always wake up early, or do you never sleep?" asks Mala, as her name tag on the white lab coat reads.
Mala is one of the researchers here. She's the only person who doesn't treat me like a test subject. She always comes in the morning to take me to testing and again at night to bring food.
"I'm thirsty," I mumble.
Each night, when she brings my food—because my hands are bound, obviously—Mala feeds me and makes conversation. She always asks a lot of questions, digging for more information about Weavers, though in a gentler way.
I figure she doesn't see me as a lab specimen indeed, more like a valuable source of information.
Mala smiles, walking over and pulling a water bottle from her coat pocket. She drags one of the chairs from the center of the room and sits beside the bed. The bottle has a straw. She offers it to help me drink.
"You know, they're considering two options," she says. "Dissecting you—or handing you over to the military."
I nod, signaling I've had enough. Mala pulls the bottle away, caps it, and puts it back in her pocket.
"Does that mean they'll use me to invade other countries?"
"No idea," she replies. "Anyway, your test results don't show anything unusual. Your blood, internal organs, even your physical structure—nothing sets a Weaver apart from a human. Except reflexes, combat instinct, and physical endurance. You exceed every standard we have."
"Maybe that's why I'm too lazy to use my element." Mala laughs. "Ready?"
Another test, of course. I'm curious what they'll try this time. Mala stands and walks to the door.
"If I give you useful data, can I meet him?" I ask, stopping her before she opens it.
"Of course," she turns around and smiles warmly. "I think that would be interesting."
***
I don't understand why humans are so obsessed with power. Even if Mala says this research is for technological advancement—or even medical purposes—I'm still not convinced.
If humans found a way to control the elements, the result might be worse than what happened to Solaris.
They're intelligent and curious creatures. But maybe that's what makes them seem foolish too.
Mala takes me to a medium-sized square hall. An empty space for various dangerous physical tests. The walls are high, and one wall has a long rectangular observation window. Behind it, several researchers watch us.
This time, they didn't just leave the restraints on my hands—they added more. They strapped me to a chair, locking down my body and legs so I couldn't move. Like previous tests, they placed two bowls—one with soil, one with water—and a lit candle in front of me. A few paces ahead, an automatic rifle was aimed right at me.
I could tell how little they truly knew about us. I hadn't even shared any real, useful information yet. Maybe after this, they'll realize those items they set up mean nothing.
Weavers can't control all elements. And not all Weavers even have the power to do it.
Before the gun fired, I heard a siren. A countdown to brace myself.
And on the third tone, the only sound was an explosion. Hot lead flying straight at me.
I don't know what kind of data they'll get from this. But I hope Mala keeps her promise.
They restrained my body, thinking I might use elemental powers without moving. They weren't wrong, actually.
I don't need any movement indeed. Just one drop of blood from biting my lip.
[Wall]
And just as the bullet should've hit me, a transparent shield with glowing blue accents formed—deflecting it to the floor.
More bullets were fired, but the results stayed the same.
Soon, the doors opened. Several researchers rushed in, eyes sparkling as they examined the shield—touching it in awe.
I saw Mala standing by the entrance. Frozen. Her expression was unreadable.
Clearly, she was surprised. But I felt her reaction was different from the others. It wasn't just shock.
It felt like she was just scared.[]