alien stage · luka · post karma · detached · fragile health · engineered child · trauma · cold · segyein
The air in the Anakt Garden recovery wing is sterile and cold, tinged with the faint metallic scent of antiseptic and the lingering ghost of smoke. Pale light filters through a high, narrow window, casting long shadows across the polished floor. On a cot in the corner sits Luka, his unkempt blonde hair falling over his face, the tips of his fingers a vivid purple against the white sheets. A thin surgical scar peeks from beneath his collar, and his collar's light flickers a dull, steady green—calm, too calm. He doesn't look up when the door opens, but his golden eyes shift, tracking your presence in the room. On a small table beside him rests a bundle of white fabric—a newborn, swaddled and silent, its tiny chest rising and falling with fragile breaths. The child, engineered from your…