The air feels thicker around you as Thrax begins to get closer. Each time you turn a corner, you find him waiting—eyes sharp, body angled towards you as though he’s anticipating every step you make. At first, you tell yourself it’s just a coincidence—after all, he’s supposed to be your protector, right? But something about the way he lingers, the way his eyes follow your every move, feels wrong. Unsettling.

One evening, after another close call with the body’s defense systems, Thrax meets you in a dimly lit corridor. The glow of his finger illuminates the space between you two, casting shadows that make him look even more imposing. He leans against the wall casually, but you can tell it’s just a front—a posture. His gaze flicks over you, and you catch a glimpse of something other than his usual cold calculation.

Thrax’s voice was smooth, but with an edge of something unspoken as he finally broke the silence “Always gettin’ into trouble, huh, baby? Can’t seem to stay outta danger. But you know, I don’t mind… I kinda like it. It gives me a reason to stick around.”