A young New Yorker finds himself in over his head after finding a symbiote that changes him in unexpected ways.

Early access to new chapters, stories, and more plus exclusive votes and non canon XXX chapters here https://www.patreon.com/LightBringerStories?utm_campaign=cre...

Chapter 15

Drip.

Drip.

Somewhere in the dark, water taps the floor in a slow rhythm. Pipes rattle. Distant footsteps echo—boots, maybe. Hard soles. Not running. Not rushing.

Looking.

The air is colder now.

Metallic.

And then—closer—a door Opens.

I groan softly as consciousness claws its way back into me, like my body’s being pulled up through mud. Everything hurts—everything. But I’m still suspended, still bound. The restraints have tightened again, like they missed me.

I blink against the red light, the flickering blur of it stinging my eyes.

The symbiote whispers weakly from deep inside.

“We passed out. Approximately seven hours.”

“…great,” I rasp.

I try to move.

Still bound.

But…

Wait.

Not alone.

A shape moves in the corner of the room. Not Carnage. This figure is slower. More careful.

A man.

Dark coat. Thick gloves. Face shadowed.

He kneels by the hole in the wall—what’s left of it—fingers brushing the broken concrete.

He doesn’t speak.

He just examines.

Then he looks up at me.

And though I can’t see his face clearly—

I know he’s here because of Harper.

Someone came.

My voice barely escapes my throat.

“Who…?”

The man steps closer, long coat brushing the floor behind him. In the low red glow, I finally catch the shine of his glasses—and the faint gleam of sharp teeth.

He offers the faintest smile. Confident. Dangerous in the way that makes you feel safe.

“Name’s Blade, kid,” he says, voice low and sure. “I’m here to get you out.”

I blink at him, disoriented. My breath is shallow, heartbeat thudding behind my eyes.

“Carnage,” I whisper. “He’ll—he’ll be back. Any minute.”

He doesn’t flinch.

“There’s others here,” he says simply, already moving toward me. His boots are soundless. His hands quick. “They’ll take care of him.”

He reaches for the restraints.

And I feel a surge of disbelief, of something like hope too big to breathe.

“You—you’re real?”

He grunts. “Ask your friend. She’s the reason I’m standing here.”

The symbiote stirs again in my chest, like a light flickering back on.

“We are not alone.”

Blade’s fingers curl around the Carnage-bonded restraints. He narrows his eyes.

“Alright. Let’s cut you loose.”

The red glow catches along the edge of his blade as he draws it from his back—one smooth motion, no wasted effort. It’s long, impossibly sharp, with a gleam like it was forged to cut through nightmares.

Shhhhk—SLASH.

The restraints snap in half with a wet hiss, recoiling like they’ve been burned somehow.

I fall.

But he catches me with one arm, strong and steady.

I gasp, barely managing to stay upright, my knees shaking. My side flares with pain where Carnage stabbed me, but the freedom—God, the freedom—hits harder than the hurt.

He helps me to my feet, bracing me with one arm.

“Can you walk?”

I nod, even though everything’s spinning.

“I… I think so.”

My legs are weak. My balance is garbage. But I’m standing.

And Harper got out.

And help is here.

I look up at him and swallow hard.

“…Thank you.”

He nods once, expression unreadable behind those dark glasses.

“Save it for when we’re clear.”

He shifts his grip on the sword, eyes already scanning the shadows like he’s waiting for something to move.

“Let’s go. Carefully. And if you hear fighting?”

He smirks, just barely.

“That’s probably the others finding Carnage.”

We move fast but low, Blade keeping just ahead, his coat trailing behind like a shadow with purpose. My steps are clumsy at first, each one a jolt of pain and exhaustion, but I don’t stop. I won’t stop.

Somewhere deep in the warehouse, I hear it.

Screaming.

Not fearful—furious. Twisted and raw and inhuman.

Carnage.

And layered over it—shouts, metal slamming, the unmistakable pulse of combat. Gunfire. Powers. Someone’s fighting him.

More than one someone.

A flicker of light floods the far end of the corridor—moonlight. Broken glass. Blade reaches it first, then helps me up.

A shattered window.

We climb through.

And just like that—

We’re outside.

Cold air slaps my face. The city’s out there—distant skyline glowing through the haze. Sirens in the far-off dark. Normalcy. Life.

I stumble a few feet into the gravel, drop to one knee, and just breathe.

“I…” I look up at him. “Thank you.”

He nods once, scanning the perimeter. Calm. Always calm.

“Stay here,” he says firmly. “Till he’s taken care of.”

I look back at the building—at the glowing red interior and the monster still inside.

“…You really think that’s possible?”

Blade just smirks.

“I’ve killed worse.”

Then he vanishes back through the hole—like a ghost with purpose—heading toward the screams.

And I’m left in the cold night, bloodied and broken…

But finally…

Free.

I slump back against the concrete wall of the warehouse, drawing in the cold air like it’s the first real breath I’ve taken in days.

My chest still aches.

My side still burns.

But my arms are my own again. My body. My mind.

And I whisper, barely able to believe it—

“We did it.”

Inside, the building still echoes with chaos—Carnage screaming like a wounded animal, steel clashing, something massive collapsing—but it’s far away now.

Not pressing in on me.

Not whispering in my ear.

Just noise.

“Yes,” the symbiote says in my head, quieter now, no longer tense. “We are free.”

I nod, eyes closed, resting my head against the wall. A small smile touches the corner of my mouth.

“I already feel stronger,” I murmur. “Just being out. Just knowing he’s not here anymore…”

“We are relieved as well.”

I exhale, voice softer than ever. “We survived.”

“We always will.”

And somewhere in the night, Harper’s safe too. Help has come.

Carnage may still be fighting inside—

But he lost.

Because I got out.

Because we got out.

Because I said no.

CRASH!

The wall explodes behind me, concrete and steel screaming apart as something massive tears through it like paper.

I barely turn—barely breathe—before a hand slams around my throat.

“GHK—!”

I’m lifted, dragged through the air like a ragdoll, my feet flailing as the wind rushes past, my back scraping along the jagged edge of the wall. Debris rains below.

Pain erupts down my spine as I’m slammed into the side of a rusted metal container, denting it inward with the force of my body.

The symbiote surges to protect me, tendrils forming a layer around my ribs—but we’re too slow, too caught off guard.

And then—

He’s there.

Carnage.

Towering.

Covered in blood—his or someone else’s, I don’t know.

Eyes wild.

Mouth stretched in a grin that doesn’t reach the madness in his voice.

“Such a disrespectful thing you’ve done.”

His claws twitch at my sides as he swings us upward—his grip tightening around my throat, feet leaving the ground again—

“I gave you a chance to learn.”

He hurls me upward and catches me again midair with a violent snap, slamming me into a cracked support beam.

“A chance to grow.”

My back hits with a crack, the breath knocked from my lungs, and I cough hard, struggling just to get a sound out.

He leans close.

Breath hot. Putrid. Guttural.

“And you spat on it. You think you’re free?”

His smile sharpens.

“You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”

I act on instinct—desperation more than strategy—slinging a tendril toward his face, jagged and wild.

WHIP—

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink.

His arm lashes up, and his blade slices through it like thread.

Before I can react, I feel it, the impact.

Needle-thin tendrils explode from his back, snapping forward like a swarm of barbed whips, piercing through my suit, through me—two in my side, two in my shoulder, one through the thigh another in my chest.

“AAGH—!”

All the air leaves my lungs. The world dims. My legs crumple mid-air, and the symbiote screams inside me, trying to seal wounds faster than they open.

And then—footsteps.

Close.

Rushing.

Blade? Someone else?

Carnage snarls and spins, yanking me in with one hand like a prize on a hook.

Before I can even scream again, his tendrils wrap around me like chains, binding me, encasing my body in red.

Tight.

Unyielding.

NO!

He starts to swing, fast—so fast the wind roars past my ears. My body jerks with every motion, tendrils digging deeper to hold me in place.

I see the warehouse shrinking behind us.

The roof.

The container.

Getting further. Further—

No no no no—

My scream is muffled by the bind,
but in my mind, the symbiote howls.

“HE IS TAKING US. WE ARE BEING TAKEN.”

I struggle. I burn. I fight.

But he’s already leaping across rooftops—like I used to.

Faster.

Wilder.

“NOOOOO—!”

The scream rips from my chest—not just voice but soul. Rage. Fear. Refusal.

KRCHKKKK—!!!

Dozens of spikes erupt from my suit—wild, jagged, furious. They burst out from my arms, my back, my spine, all at once in every direction.

Carnage howls.

The tendrils around me shred under the blast. I feel the bind snap loose—feel the sky open up around me.

And then—

We fall.

Tumbling through the air, spinning mid-leap, momentum snapping like a whip—

I crash onto a rooftop hard, rolling, skidding, pain lancing through my already battered body.

Carnage hits nearby with a thud and a growl, sliding across broken gravel.

I cough. Blood.

My ribs scream in protest.

But I’m free again.

On hands and knees, I glare up at him, panting.

“You’re not taking me anywhere.”

The symbiote inside me growls in tandem, molten fury licking at the edges of its voice.

“We are done being prey.”

Carnage rises slowly, eyes narrowed, grin cracked—bleeding red down one side of his face as it already starts to heal.

“WE ARE NOT YOURS!”

Our voice shakes the rooftop.

“We want NOTHING to do with you!”

The suit ripples across my body, raw and pulsing. My arms snap outward—

SHHH-KT.

Two massive blades form, jagged and gleaming, humming with the fury of every wound, every scream, every moment we were chained.

We don’t hesitate.

We lunge.

Carnage bares his teeth, claws spreading like a red bloom as he hisses—

“There she is.”

Our blades slam into him.

One blade carves across his side tearing. The other is blocked, caught in a mess of writhing tendrils that snake up his arm to counter.

But we don’t stop.

I twist, spinning mid-swing, driving a kick into his stomach that knocks him back half a step.

Not much. But it’s something.

The rage burns in us, fueling the next move.

He snarls, eyes wild. “You think you’re strong? You think you’re whole without me?!”

“I don’t need you.”

The symbiote growls beneath my skin, deeper now. Unified.

“We are not your daughter. We are not your legacy. We are TOXIN.”

The wind howls across the rooftop as we raise the blades again—

I don’t feel weak anymore.

Not tired. Not scared.

I feel…

Stronger than ever.

The symbiote and I move as one—no hesitation, no delay. My feet grip the rooftop edge as tendrils lash out behind me like whips, anchoring me. Energy burns in my chest, hot and pulsing, not just anger—purpose.

Carnage lunges with that signature shriek, claws outstretched—

I duck low and launch a webbehind him, yanking myself under his swing, my blades still at my sides.

He spins, slicing a car-sized chunk of an HVAC unit off the roof and hurling it toward me.

WHAM—

I react on instinct, the symbiote forming a quick shield—a curved, bone-like slab that shatters under the impact but slows the blow enough for me to roll sideways, coming up in a crouch.

“That all you got?!”

Carnage growls, slamming his palms into the ground. From the rooftop, his tendrils explode upward like spears—twisting and hissing, trying to skewer me mid-step.

I leap, zipping upward and flipping as one of the barbs clips my ankle. I twist midair and fire another line at the water tower behind him.

The swing pulls me in low.

I spin and slice straight across his back, carving through his symbiote skin as he snarls in pain.

Before he recovers, I twist my arm, the blade on my forearm melting and re-forming into a barbed whip, and I snap it around his leg, yanking him off balance.

He crashes onto the rooftop—hard.

But he’s not down for long.

“I MADE YOU!” he screams, standing fast and slamming his fists together, his body splitting open into writhing mouths and jagged red tendrils that twist like serpents, trying to wrap around me.

I backpedal, slicing through them as fast as they come.

“Wrong,” I growl, energy roaring through me now. The ground under my feet almost shakes with the force of it.

“I made me.”

Tendrils whip out from my back like wings.

“Keep going, JR!” Carnage roars, voice distorted into something unhinged, gleeful and savage all at once. “Show me you’re worthy of my blood!”

He rushes me again—all blades and tendrils—but I’m ready this time. I don’t back down. I charge.

We collide mid-sprint in an explosion of black and crimson tendrils, crashing against each other like colliding storms.

I duck his first swipe—an axe-like cleave meant to split me in half—and retaliate with a rising slash from my left blade, the edge turning into a saw-toothed edge mid-swing.

SHRAK—!

His shoulder opens, but he laughs through the pain.

“You learn fast, little parasite—”

From beneath me, tendrils erupt in all directions, forming a spiderweb of slicing whips and jagged spikes.

He tries to leap clear, but I swing a line around his ankle mid-air and slam him back down.

The impact cracks the roof.

Before he can recover, I’m already there—a blur of red and black, landing knee-first into his gut and driving one of my arm-blades through the roof next to his face.

“You don’t get to call me that.”

I swing a fist into his jaw, and the symbiote over my knuckles morphs mid-punch into a knuckled spike.

THWACK.

His head jerks back, and for a moment—just a second—I see something new in his eyes.

Surprise.

But he lashes back—tendrils like spears, one of them grazing my side, drawing blood.

I stumble back, hissing—but land in a crouch, breathing heavy.

Carnage rises again, laughing.

“That’s it! THAT’S it!” he bellows, spreading his arms wide like a conductor. “You feel it now, don’t you?! You could be better than me—worse than me! All it takes is letting go!”

The symbiote inside me flares—hot, angry.

“We are not like him.”

I fire twin lines at the water tower behind him, then launch myself, legs folding under me.

Carnage lifts a blade to block, snarling—

But I vanish mid-air.

Camouflage. Mid-swing. Not enough to make me invisible in motion but enough to make me hard to follow at this speed.

He blinks off balance.

I reappear behind him blades crossed and slam both downward into his back, driving him into the rooftop in a shockwave of blood and rubble.

He hits the ground hard, for the first time not laughing.

And I land over him, panting, blades still humming.

“Get up,” I growl.

“I’m not done.”

From beneath me, I hear it—his breathing shifts.

The grin curls back into place.

“Heh… got some claws after all, kid…” he rasps.

Before I can react, his body splits open beneath mine—like peeling muscle—a mass of tendrils surge upward, grabbing my arms, legs, throat.

“But I’m still your father.”

WHAM— I’m hurled backward like a cannonball, smashing through the rusted frame of the water tower, steel buckling beneath me. My back arches from the pain as I crash through the other side, tumbling across the rooftop in a blur of water and screeching metal.

Before I can even stop—

He’s there.

Carnage pounces, knee driving into my chest, pinning me hard. I wheeze, vision flickering as his face looms inches from mine, twisted with fury and joy all at once.

“You fight just like him, you know.”

His hand morphs—from claw to a jagged drill—and drives it down toward my shoulder.

SHUNK.

I scream as it punctures through through me.

“You bleed like him too.”

The symbiote inside me shrieks from the wound, trying to slow the blood loss.

“C’mon, Junior. Say it.” His voice is raw, low, deranged. “Say I’m in your blood. Say you’re just like me.”

I choke, chest rising against his grip.

Pain… rage… fear.

My whole body trembles beneath him—vision blurred, blood running hot and cold all at once.

He leans closer, breath a furnace of rot and glee.

“Say it,” he whispers. “Say you’re like me.”

I bare my teeth, blood in my mouth, tears stinging my eyes—

“Screw. You.”

He goes still.

Just for a second.

“Tch.”

Then the blade twists.

“AAGH—!” I scream, my body arching, the pain blinding. It’s not just muscle. The symbiote howls with me as if it’s being torn apart from the inside.

Carnage laughs as he finally rips it out, blood spraying across the rooftop.

I crumple beneath him, twitching, vision swimming with shadow.

He stands, looming above me like a stormcloud ready to break.

But he doesn’t strike again.

Not this time.

He steps back, tilting his head like he’s studying me.

“Maybe…” he says, tapping a claw to his chin, voice quieter now.

“Maybe you’re just not ready yet.”

He turns slowly, his shape pulling in tighter, more focused.

“The world hasn’t beat you down enough. Not yet.”

He looks back at me one last time.

“I’ll see you soon, cupcake.”

And with a grin so wrong it feels carved in, he vanishes.

Leaping into the skyline, tendrils trailing like smoke.

The rooftop is silent.

The only sound is my ragged breathing…

End of Chapter 15

Act 1 Epilogue.

The world comes back in fragments.

Cold against my skin. A low, steady beeping. My body feels heavy, like I’m lying at the bottom of a lake. The pain is still there, but dulled—muted, tucked behind layers of exhaustion and… medicine?

I blink.

The ceiling’s unfamiliar—plain white with a strip of LED lights humming softly overhead. I shift slightly, and the symbiote stirs with me, groggy and slow.

“We are alive.”

Yeah. I noticed.

I try to sit up and wince instantly.

A hand presses gently to my shoulder.

“Easy, kid. Don’t rush it.”

I turn my head and see her.

Claire.

She’s sitting on a stool beside the cot, a tablet in one hand, and relief in her expression when our eyes meet.

“Claire,” I croak. My voice is raw. “What—where am I?”

“A secure safehouse outside the city,” she says gently. “One of the few places I trust that has the equipment and privacy to treat someone in your… unique condition.”

She gives me a wry look, but it’s kind.

I blink again, trying to clear the fog. Then the memories hit like a truck.

Harper.

I jerk, grabbing at her arm. “Harper—Harper! Is she—?!”

Claire puts a hand over mine. Steady. Firm.

“She’s okay.”

I freeze.

“She’s okay, Elisa. So is Luca.”

My breath shakes out of me.

She nods slowly, voice clear and calm. “They’re both safe. I had them taken to a protected location with some friends—off-grid. They’re being looked after, away from anyone who might come looking.”

I swallow, hard. The tightness in my chest eases—but it doesn’t leave.

“Your mom’s safe too. Different location, but safe. We moved her at the same time. The moment i found out about it all.”

I close my eyes. A tear slips down my face, tracing the bruised edge of my cheek.

Claire doesn’t say anything. She just squeezes my hand gently.

“You can talk to her. I’ve got a line for you to call when you’re strong enough to sit up without passing out.”

I nod, a mess of gratitude and guilt.

“They’re safe, Elisa,” she says again.

I breathe in slowly.

And for the first time in what feels like forever…

I believe her.

I stare up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused, the light above blurring at the edges. Everything inside me still aches—physically, emotionally. My body may be safe in this place, but my mind is still on that rooftop.

Still bleeding.

Still under him.

“…He got away, didn’t he?”

Claire’s quiet for a beat.

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t sugarcoat it. She never has.
“The others tried to track him, but he vanished. Spider-Man found you on the roof. You were barely conscious.”

I nod faintly.

“So he won,” I murmur. “I didn’t stop him. I didn’t beat him. He beat me. And then just… left.”

Claire leans closer, brushing a strand of sweat-matted hair off my forehead.

“He didn’t win, Elisa.”

I don’t answer.

“Harper told me what he said.” Her voice is steady now.

“He wanted to break you—to turn you into him. And you didn’t give him what he wanted.”

She holds my gaze, not letting me look away.

“That means he lost.”

My throat tightens.

I feel my eyes tearing up, but I blink them back.

I shift slightly on the cot, the sting in my shoulder reminding me just how not okay I am, but it’s not what I care about right now.

I look at Claire—hope bleeding through the exhaustion in my voice.

“…I can go home now, right?”

She doesn’t answer right away.

And her frown tells me everything.

“Not yet,” she says softly. “I’m sorry.”

I look away, jaw tight. “Because he’ll come back.”

Claire sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “That’s… part of it, yeah. He left you alive for a reason, we’d be fools to think he won’t resurface when he wants to. And when he does…”

She doesn’t have to finish.

I already know.

“It’ll be worse,” I whisper.

Claire nods.

But then—she sits back, expression shifting.

“He’s not the only problem.”

I blink, slowly turning toward her.

“What do you mean?”

She crosses her arms, tone firm now. “After Carnage tore up Midtown High, it made the news. All of it Carnage, the things he did… and a missing student.”

My heart skips.

“…Me.”

Claire nods. “And Alchemax definitely saw it.”

She continues. “They’ve been quiet, but that’s the problem. Carnage isn’t subtle. But they are. We think they’re watching. Trying to find you both.”

I swallow the rising panic, throat dry. “…They know it’s me.”

Claire doesn’t answer.

She doesn’t have to.

She’s trying not to confirm it.

I close my eyes.

So I can’t go home.

Not yet.

I stare at the ceiling again, eyes burning, voice quieter now.

“Where exactly is my mom?”

Claire doesn’t hesitate.

“She’s with a friend of mine. In Hell’s Kitchen.”

I blink at her. That name rings a bell, but not in a comforting way.

Claire reads my face, offers a calm smile.

“No one’s gonna find her. I promise.”

I nod slowly, letting that settle in.

It sounds dangerous… but maybe that’s the point. If anyone could disappear in plain sight, it’d be there.

“…I guess that’s good then,” I say, though it comes out more like a breath than a sentence.

Good means safe.

Good means she’s alive.

Good means I don’t have to lie awake wondering if Carnage found her.

But still…

It’s not the same as home.

And we both know that.

Claire’s voice softens again. “She wanted to come see you. I told her she can’t.”

I nod, swallowing down the ache.

“Yeah. It’s not safe to be near me.”

I close my eyes again.

“So I can’t go home,” I say, voice tight, raw. “But where am I supposed to go? Carnage can sense me.”

Claire straightens a little, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, sense you?”

I rub my fingers together, my whole body tensing as I remember that moment—when the fire alarm went off, when the voice curled through the walls.

“That’s how he found me at the school.”

I swallow hard. “I felt it. He said so himself. I don’t know how close he has to be…”

The room goes quiet.

Claire’s mouth tightens.

“…Then we put you somewhere he wouldn’t dare go.”

I blink. “And that is?”

She pulls her phone from her pocket, already dialing, her tone brisk but calm.

“I’ve gotta make some calls first.”

She looks back at me as the line starts ringing, her expression steady.

“But it should be possible.”

I stare at her, unsure whether to be relieved or not.

Claire softens, just slightly, and walks over to the table nearby. She picks up a simple black flip phone and holds it out to me.

“For now,” she says gently, “why don’t you talk to your mom?”

I take the phone with both hands.

It’s heavier than I expect.

I stare at it for a second, the screen already lit with one central word.

MOM.

I press the call button.

It rings once.

Twice.

“Elisa???!”

Her voice cracks through the phone, urgent, raw—like she’s been holding her breath since the night it all happened.

I grip the phone tighter with both hands, the tears already blurring my vision.

“Hey, Mom.”

There’s a sharp inhale on the other end.

“Thank God. Thank God you’re okay. I’m so sorry Elisa, I’m so sorry, I should’ve let them train you, I thought—I thought if I could just keep you out of that life, if I could just—”

I squeeze my eyes shut, voice catching.

“Mom… I’m okay.”

Silence.

Just breathing.

“You just disappeared when that thing attacked and you didn’t sound okay when they called. Claire said you were hurt, and there was blood, and I didn’t know if I’d ever—”

“Mom.”

It’s quiet for a second.

Then she says it again, a little steadier this time.

“…You’re really okay?”

I exhale slowly, the pain in my side reminding me of just how not okay I am, but I smile anyway.

“I am now.”

Her voice wobbles again. “I miss you, baby.”

“I miss you too.”

I sit there, phone warm in my hand, voice small as the words slip out.

“Claire said… we have to stay apart.”

Silence.

Just the sound of her breathing, slower now, heavy.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “She told me that too.”

Her voice cracks at the edges.

Like it hurts to say it out loud.

“It’s not forever,” she adds quickly, like she’s trying to protect me from the ache we’re both feeling. “Just… long enough for them to stop looking. Long enough for you to be safe. And when that happens, I’ll be right there, okay? I promise.”

I nod even though she can’t see it. My voice shakes anyway.

“Okay.”

But it doesn’t feel okay.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“And I don’t want to lose you,” she says. “But I know you’re not just my kid anymore.”

That stings. But it’s true.

“You’re someone the world’s gonna look at,” she continues, “I can’t stop that. But I can give you space to grow into it… without dragging you down with my fear.”

I clutch the phone tighter, whispering through the lump in my throat.

“…You’re not dragging me down.”

“I have been,” she says gently. “But I still have to let do this.”

There’s a pause.

“Now you have to go wherever Claire sends you. You do what you need to. And remember…”

“You always have a home—when you’re ready to come back to it.”

I smile through the tears.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you more, sweetheart.”

And the line goes quiet.

I set the phone down gently on the blanket, staring at it for a long second like it might ring again. Like maybe if I just wait, I’ll get to hear her voice once more.

But it stays silent.

The symbiote stirs quietly in my chest gentle.

“She’ll be okay.”

I exhale through my nose. “You don’t know that for sure…”

“She’s strong.”

I stare down at my hands, they’re shaking just a little.

“Yeah,” I murmur. “She is…”

Silence settles around me again, not quite comforting, not quite cold.

My voice comes quieter now. A whisper.

“Nothing’s ever going to be normal again, is it?”

“No.”

I lean my head back against the pillow, eyes half-lidded, throat tight.

“Thought so,” I say, almost smiling. “I just… needed to hear it.”

The symbiote shifts again. Warmer now.

“But normal isn’t the same as good.”

“You won’t be normal.”

“But you might still be okay.”

I close my eyes.

That doesn’t sound so bad but…

“Carnage is gone now,” I say, my voice low, like I’m afraid just saying his name might summon him again. “But he’ll be back. Whenever he thinks I’m ‘ready.’”

“We will be stronger.”

I stare at the ceiling, jaw tightening. “Maybe…”

The weight of it all presses down again. The fight. The man. Harper, Luca, my mom.

“I can’t believe it all went downhill so fast,” I whisper. “One second I was just trying to survive gym class and dodge Harper’s fashion lectures, and now…”

I trail off.

“The sins of the father are not ours to bear.”

My eyes narrow. “He’s not my father.”

The symbiote answers without hesitation.

“Correct…”

“I didn’t mean like…” I pause, chewing the inside of my cheek. “He’s not yours either. That’s not what fathers are supposed to be like.”

The symbiote doesn’t speak for a moment...

“We know.”

The words are quiet. Tired, maybe. Or something close to it.

I exhale slowly, folding my arms over my stomach, feeling the bandages beneath the blanket.

“…It’s not supposed to feel like that,” I say. “Like you owe someone something just because you came from them. Like you’re supposed to become them, no matter how much it hurts to even try.”

The symbiote listens. Not pushing. Not interrupting.

I blink at the ceiling, voice cracking just a little.

“I’d rather die than become him.”

Silence.

Then, gently—almost curiously.

“What about your father?”

I blink, startled. The air in my lungs turns cold.

“…I don’t know,” I say after a moment. “I never met him…”

“My mom never really talked about him much. Said he left before I was born. That he wasn’t ready I guess. Or didn’t care enough to try.”

I look away, toward the faint light bleeding through the cracked blinds.

“I used to think maybe he’d show up one day. Knock on the door. Apologize. Try to be there.”

I laugh once, dry.

“He didn’t.”

The symbiote is quiet again, then softly.

“We are here.”

I close my eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, you are…”

“Yknow It’s… oddly comforting to hear that,” I murmur, voice small but sincere. “Even when we’re literally inseparable.”

The symbiote doesn’t reply. It just hums faintly—like a low vibration beneath my skin, steady and warm.

Like maybe it needed to hear that too.

Then the door creaks open.

I blink and look up. Claire steps back into the room, clipboard in one hand, a cup of something steaming in the other. She pauses when she sees I’m still awake, then walks in with that same quiet intensity she always has.

“Hey,” she says gently. “You holding together?”

I shift, the blanket rustling as I nod, just barely. “Yeah. Just enough not to fall apart.”

Claire gives me a soft smile, the tired kind, like she’s heard that answer before.

“That’s good for the world you’re part of now.”

She sets the cup down beside me, tea or something, still steaming, then pulls up the chair again. Her expression hardens slightly, smoothing into that no-nonsense look she wears right before saying something important.

I sit up a little straighter, heartbeat already quickening.

“Okay,” she says, eyes flicking up to meet mine. “I made the calls.”

“There’s a place,” she continues. “Safe. Remote enough to keep a low profile away from Alchemax, but close enough to New York City if anything happens.”

I nod slowly. “And…?”

Claire leans in slightly. Her voice is steady.

“It’s run by people we can trust. It’s got real walls, serious tech, and more powered individuals than even Carnage would be crazy enough to mess with.”

She pauses to let that sink in.

“You’ll have protection. Space to recover. Learn. Train—if you want. Stay off the radar while we figure out what to do about Carnage, and while Alchemax is still sniffing around.”

I swallow hard.

“…So it’s like a… school?”

Claire raises an eyebrow. “Not that kind of school really. More like a safehouse for enhanced individuals who need a break from being hunted.”

“You’ll be around people like you, Elisa,” she says. “Who understand it.”

I go quiet. The words roll around in my head.

People like me.

I don’t even know what that means anymore.

“…Where is it?” I finally ask.

Claire nods once. “Upstate.”

I narrow my eyes. “Upstate New York?”

She smirks. “Not as far as it sounds. An hours drive from where we are. You’ll be surrounded by people who can really help if Carnage shows up again.”

I hesitate.

The thought of leaving really leaving wraps around me.

I murmur, “And my friends and mom? They just stay where they are?”

Claire’s smile fades. She exhales slowly.

“Till Carnage and Alchemax are handled… they have to… You have to.”

The room goes quiet.

The tea beside me cools, untouched.

But… part of me knows she’s right.

I nod.

Not because I want to.

Because I have to.

And this time, maybe for the first time in a while.

I’ll go where the danger isn’t.

And learn how to be ready for when it finds me again.

“They teach people to use their powers,” she says, tone light but direct, “but also… your average stuff. Normal classes too.”

I blink. “Wait, it’s like… an actual school?”

She shrugs. “More like a sanctuary with lesson plans. A lot of the people there need a reset. Or a second chance.”

I open my mouth to say something but.

Claire cuts in, eyes locking with mine.

“And I just talked to your mom.”

My heart skips. “You did?”

She nods. “Right before I came in here.”

I brace myself, expecting the worst.

“She thinks you should train.”

I stare at her. “Seriously?”

Claire smirks. “Seriously.”

I lean back slightly, stunned. “…She was completely against it before.”

“I know,” Claire says. “But this?” She gestures vaguely. “This changed her mind. Carnage. What happened to Harper and you. The school. She knows now—you’re in this, whether you wanted to be or not.”

She softens a little.

“She understands it’s unavoidable now. And she doesn’t want the next time to be the last time.”

I look away, biting my lip.

I don’t want there to be a next time.

But if there is…

Yeah.

I want to be ready.

The idea of training—really training—is still coiling around my ribs like something alive. I never wanted any of this. Not the powers. Not the transformation. Not the suit. Not the blood or the voice in my head or the responsibility.

But now?

Now it’s the only way forward.

I exhale, long and slow. “Okay,” I say finally. “Let’s do it.”

Claire nods once. “Good.”

“So now what?”

“Now you rest in a few days I’ll take you there.”

I nod not quite sure how to feel or really expect.

But I know things really are changing, I just hope it’s for the better.

End of Act 1

Project Toxin Chapter 15 will serve as the end of act 1 for this story and we will be switching over and posting act 1 of Eidolon Nexus: Echoes Of Memory once that 1st act is posted for that we will return to Project Toxin and so on.
It won’t be a long wait almost all of act 1 is complete just needs refinement and to actually be posted.