The Scent of TruthWriter's POVThe air in Noah’s room crackled with an unseen tension, a battle waged not with fists or blades, but with memories and neural pathways. Iris, trembling but resolute, held the small vial of her old perfume—a fragile weapon against Wren’s intricate psychological warfare. Camilla, a silent sentinel by the monitoring screens, watched the erratic lines of Noah's brainwaves, knowing this was their desperate gamble. Every second was a breath held, a prayer whispered, as the fate of one boy, and perhaps the future of humanity, hung in the balance.Iris (POV)"Noah," Iris whispered, her voice a raw plea. He lay still, eyes wide and unseeing, a ghost in his own body. She unstoppered the vial, the familiar floral scent, a ghost of her past, filling the sterile air. It was a scent that had once brought comfort, laughter, the warm embrace of a child burying his face in her clothes. Now, it was a desperate gamble.She gently dabbed a few drops on her wrist, then slow
Last Updated : 2025-07-23 Read more