The Boy Who Fell
3
“Think Adam would find that fascinating? Let’s find out, shall we?”
Elias’s heart lurched. Only then he realised that this…
was the threat.
The door clicked for a second time.
Adam edged in first, balancing a tray stacked with plates, steaming thermos mugs, and a paper bag that smelled of butter and cinnamon. Elias watched, lingering on the way Adam’s fingers steadied the wobbling mugs.
“Pastry delivery, fresh from the common-room microwave,” Adam announced with a grin.
Astra followed in worn denim jacket and ripped jeans. Her crimson gaze swept the room, clocking Eydis’s cat-smug sprawl across a chair and Elias’s drawn, pale face. A smile tugged at her lips.
“Still breathing,” she said. “Progress.”
“You’re back early,” Eydis said, rising gracefully. Her shoulder brushed Astra’s as she came to stand beside her. She threw a glance toward the bed. “But your timing couldn’t be better. I’m sure Elias is absolutely famished, wouldn't you agree?”
Elias swallowed hard, the threat woven into Eydis’s casual tone landed. He flinched slightly as Adam set the tray on the nightstand. seaʀᴄh thё NovelZone.fun website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.
“Croissants, sausage rolls… stocked up just in case,” Adam said with a tired-smile. “Didn’t know when you’d wake, and the cafeteria’s not exactly a night owl.”
Warmth tugged at Elias’s guarded edges. He ducked his head, yet the corner of his mouth twitched.
“How considerate, Adam” Eydis teased. “Always looking out for your best friend.”
The emphasis on 'best friend' made Elias wince. He broke off a piece of sausage roll, fingers trembling, and forced himself to chew.
Adam rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.
Elias swallowed, then fixed Eydis with a level stare. “Ask.”
“I want a yes.”
“That depends on the question," Elias said.
Eydis’s grin widened, and her eyes slid deliberately to Adam, who was watching their exchange with growing confusion.
Elias closed his eyes, exhaled. “Y…es.”
Adam gawked. “Wait, what? What did she do?”
“Why, Adam?” Eydis examined her black-painted nails. “Elias is intelligent. He has an IQ higher than a fern, doesn’t he? He knows this is pure self-preservation, not heroics.”
Mischief danced in her eyes as Elias recoiled. “I mean, we trap the virus or it keeps hijacking his head. And I’m sure Elias heard every word of our conversation during his little self-exile into planthood.”
Elias’s shoulders eased. “If your theory is right, I am in. Found the source yet?”
Astra flicked a silver strand over one shoulder. “We want you to access Tweeter’s system.”
The room went dead quiet.
Adam stiffened. “You think the virus is spreading through Tweeter? But that’s impossible. The security alone—“
Elias’s fingers tapped against his mug. He risked a sidelong glance at Adam, measuring how the other boy’s mind already whirred through contingencies. "Root access isn't a weekend project. Their firewall would have half a dozen agencies knocking down our door before we typed 'hello world.'"
“Besides," Adam added, pacing now, "nobody in the Obsidian Legion will shut down a social network. Freedom of expression, cult hashtags, all that.”
“Freedom of expression, as in, full frontal?” Eydis quipped.
Adam’s face went red. Elias blinked slowly, like his brain was buffering something deeply unpleasant.
Astra shot her a look, but there was a hidden fondness in it. “Eydis.”
“Just saying.” Eydis lifted one shoulder in mock innocence, though her voice softened as she turned back to Astra. “The good news is, Astra thinks we don’t need to hack Tweeter.”
Elias glanced between them, then a memory hit: both of them leaning against him during his self-exile. He shuddered, forced the thought down, and pivoted. “Then what are we doing?”
Astra crossed her arms. “We’re setting a trap. That’s where you come in.”
“A honeypot,” Eydis added. “Adam makes it look appetising. I provide the hardware."
Adam blinked. "Wait, you bought servers? How did you even afford that?"
“Ten grand isn’t that much if you know where to look.”
Understanding dawned on Elias. “That is why you wanted the yes.”
Eydis tilted her head, pleased. “Exactly. There’s only one person who can do this without setting off digital Armageddon.”
Astra nodded toward Elias. “And it’s you.”
Before he could speak, a sharp jolt of pain tore through him. Elias gasped, folding in on himself. His left hand flickered—flesh to bark to flesh again, the transformation stuttering like bad code.
Adam lunged forward, the tray nearly up-ended. Eydis caught his elbow. “Don’t,” she said sharply. “Don’t touch him.”
“But the virus isn’t contagious by contact—”
“His arcane energy’s leaking. The stabiliser we used wasn’t designed for someone this charged.”
“Do we have another vial?” Adam asked. “Might buy him some time.”
Eydis shook her head. “The compound’s experimental. Rare, unstable. I only managed to get one.”
Astra lifted a questioning brow at her but stayed silent.
“I’m fine, Adam,” Elias reassured him through gritted teeth, one hand clutching his chest as his breath hitched. Adam hovered, helpless.
“Trapping the virus ends the nightmares,” Elias rasped. “Let’s get to work.”
“Just don’t sprout leaves mid-mission," Eydis said lightly.
Elias glared but let the remark slide. He shoved himself upright, his stance shaky though his tone never wavered. “Assuming we breach Tweeter, baiting the virus gets easier once we know its favourite nest.”
Adam paced the floor. “To hit everyone at once, what part matters most?”
“The trending algorithm,” Elias, Adam and Astra said together.
Eydis’s amber eyes lit. “That is Tweeter’s heart.”
Adam dragged over a chair, laptop already awake, fingers clattering. “I’ll dig for leaked credentials, guaranteed they’re on some marketplace. The new CEO trimmed the security crew for profits, and now the recommendation cluster’s running wild.”
He kept ranting as he worked, complaints tumbling out as quickly as his fingers flew over the keys. Elias listened, emerald eyes soft with patience.
Eydis raised a brow. Elias caught it and sighed. “He takes this personally.”
“Wonder why.” She smirked.
Adam didn't notice. “You were right about the unsolicited nudity spike, by the way.”
The memory made Eydis’s skin crawl. She’d never been one for ogling bare skin, though her gaze strayed to Astra, the loosened V-neck offering a sweep of collarbone.
Heat pooled when their eyes locked; Astra’s lips parted, the faintest blush rising. “What are you thinking, Eydis?”
Eydis felt ridiculous, like a teenager fumbling a first crush, entertaining inappropriate thoughts when she should have been focused. Instead, she replied, “Thinking about the avalanche of flesh that assaulted my timeline.”
Her expression soured the moment the words left her mouth.
Astra watched every flicker. “You didn’t like it, or you weren’t interested?” The question held more than curiosity.
“Should I be?” The reply came too fast, and it was a mistake, because Astra’s gaze dropped.
Astra took one step back. “Right. Of course.”
Eydis almost spoke, almost clarified, but Adam cut in with a sharp tap of the enter key.
“We’re in. And you were right.”
Astra leaned over his shoulder, close enough to steal his breath. “Show us.”
Eydis and Elias narrowed their eyes.
“I mean… uh, yeah.” Adam angled the screen. “Internal analytics show some trending videos with insane engagement time. Users suddenly favour long form over half-minute clips. Completely backwards.”
Astra’s gaze sharpened. “Because hallucinations need time to take hold. Thirty seconds won’t rewire a brain.”
“Then that’s the play. Target the recommendation engine.” Adam’s typing sped up. “I’ll scrape what we need and spin a honeypot that looks native.”
Elias nodded. “Clone just enough API surface to fool it.”
“Exactly. It only has to feel like part of the bloodstream.”
Elias’s emerald eyes lit up, his usual frost giving way as the pieces clicked with someone who kept pace. Then he caught Eydis watching him with that knowing smile, and cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Once the server's live," he said, turning to her, "how do we bait the virus?"
Eydis’s grin turned dangerous. “We starve it.”
“Starve it?” Elias frowned. “It’s a virus. Not a person.”
“It chases engagement. So we slow it down.” Eydis shrugged.
“Slow it down?” Adam swiveled toward her. “You mean slow down the videos?”
“Brainwashing relies on rhythm,” Astra explained. “If the stream stutters, the trance breaks.”
Elias snapped his fingers. “Rate-limit a regional CDN node, add jitter, wreck engagement, while our honeypot stays smooth.”
“Looks like harmless congestion,” Adam agreed. “Start with Alchymia City’s edge cache. The virus sees metrics tank and hunts healthier traffic.”
With the Gifted population already a buffet of rich arcane energy, Lust won’t let the engagement here collapse without a fight, Eydis thought.
“We load the honeypot with trending content and unlimited bandwidth. It migrates,” Astra said.
“Then the virus,” Elias said, voice low with growing certainty, “jumps ship from the starving host to our decoy.”
Adam blew out a breath. “Clean, minimal collateral. Only hitch: hacking that CDN node lights up every alarm. Constant scrutiny.”
Eydis’s grin went feral.
“Adam, Adam… did you even listen? Who said anything about hacking?”