The lab was silent except for the faint hum of machinery, the kind of quiet that presses on the ears and makes every small sound louder. Pidge adjusted her glasses, staring into the cracked mirror on the wall. She hadn’t told the others about what had been happening—not yet.

At first, it was subtle: a vine curling from the corner of her vision, a strange itch just beneath her skin. She thought it was exhaustion, stress from long nights of coding and repairing systems. But tonight, when she tugged down her collar, the truth spilled out in colors she couldn’t deny.

From her cheek to her neck bloomed a garden—vivid flowers, glowing faintly with energy, weaving themselves into her flesh. A vibrant red blossom pulsed where her eye once was, petals opening and closing as if breathing with her. Tiny green leaves sprouted along her jaw, threading down toward her chest, each one alive.

She lifted her hand, almost instinctively, pointing at the bloom on her face. Her voice was shaky but tinged with awe. “Guess… I’ve become the experiment now.”

The plants whispered, shifting slightly, as though they could hear her thoughts. She wasn’t sure if this was a curse, an infection, or some new connection to the universe itself. But one thing was certain—whatever was happening to her was changing everything.

And for the first time in a long time, Pidge felt a strange mix of fear and wonder.