Novel & Cerita Projection Chapter 31

he murmured urgently, but she shook her head, forcing herself to stand. She couldn’t look away. Vale clasped his hands behind his back, pacing slowly within the projection, as though strolling through a pristine lab rather than a ruined one reclaimed by earth and time. “Project SILENT was never meant to create killers,” he said mildly. “That was Phase One thinking. Crude. Inefficient.” The chamber lights began to shift, illuminating faded symbols carved into the walls—schematics burned directly into stone. Human outlines. Shifter neural pathways.

she whispered. The resonance steadied but the entity adapted again. The echo shifted tactics. If doubt would not fracture me, it would amplify fear. A new distortion flickered at the edge of my mind and the ripple breaching fully. The hospital collapsing, me failing to hold and my chest tightened involuntarily. The failsafe warned. “Catastrophic projection insertion detected.” “It is showing me what could happen,” I breathed. “Yes.” Jamal’s voice remained steady. “That is not prediction. It is provocation.”

She staggers, her vision showing relics—spires pulsing, their starborn husks, their chants feeding the Veil-threads into a fracturing rift, its threads fraying like gossamer. The Herald’s projection slashes, its blade grazing Renn, shadow bleeding from his wound, his relics dim, his body crumpling, his hymn a whisper. Cassia drags him back, her fire flaring, her blade shielding him, her eyes fierce, her voice breaking, a sharp “Stay with us!” Maddox’s shadows bind the projection’s arm, his dagger slashing, his grunt desperate, his blade sparking. Sylvara’s vines lash the altar, her aura fading, her vines crumbling, her hands pressed to the ground, her lips moving—Elara’s name. Lysara’s frost

Vivian remained alert. Alfred seemed genuinely confused. Then my eyes landed on David. He noticed. “You don’t believe it’s me.” “I don’t know what to believe anymore.” The words hurt both of us. Before he could answer, one of the statues suddenly stopped rotating. A hidden compartment opened in its chest. Inside lay a small projector. Without anyone touching it, the projector activated. A beam of light filled the wall opposite us. An old recording flickered into view. The image was grainy, but recognizable.

Chapter 20: Jamie Speaks POV: Jamie The projector hummed softly, casting a pale light across the wide conference room wall. Jamie stood in front of it, remote in hand, palms slightly damp. His heartbeat wasn’t racing—not quite—but it was heavy, deliberate. Like a war drum calling him forward whether he was ready or not. The room was full.

Augustine said smugly, “merely raising possibilities. After all, you spent weeks in hiding with Hector, did you not? And your former mate Xavier… some might say the bond between you still lingers.” “That’s disgusting!” My voice rose, shaking with outrage. “I would never—” “Enough!” Adrian shot to his feet, his voice like a whip. “You dare to imply she has been lying—” But Augustine lifted a hand, smug as ever. “I do not imply. I prove.” A soft whirring filled the air. My eyes darted upward as a projector descended from the ceiling. My heart sank to my knees. “What is this?” Adrian demanded, his voice booming.

Constellations. Dates. Names. As his fingers touched the glass… The observatory lights dimmed. The cylinder suddenly projected dozens of shimmering images into the air. The library disappeared. Instead… They found themselves surrounded by ghostlike figures. Not ghosts. Recordings. Jonathan Mercer stood at the center of the projection. Younger than in the photograph. Older than in the journal. He looked directly ahead, as though he knew one day someone would stand exactly where Lucien now stood. “If you’re seeing this…”

I said. "No," he said. "It is not." "And if the projection works," I said. "And the concentration is disrupted. And the dam holds." "The descent continues," he said. "But the power you used in the projection is gone. Eighty five percent becomes whatever remains after a full projection through three deep territory layers." He paused. "We do not know what that leaves. Could be enough for the restoration. Could be not enough." "Could be nothing," I said. "Could be nothing," he said. "Yes."

We get into position. I concentrate on my memories bringing them forward. Pushing them out of my mind and into the air around us. They danced in the air like a projection. Playing the stories of the lost for all to see and hear. The sight of their fragile and damaged bodies came into full view. The sound of their pleas ringing through the town. I was hidden behind the projection, but I could see through it. I could see the shocked faces of the people around me. I watched them gasp as Charles came into view. His words showing no regard for the people he was abusing. His plans being laid out for all to see. There was nothing but truth in my projection. This was the side these people hadn’t se

“Don’t sweat it. They knew something would happen, but they didn’t feel it through your weakening projection. Do yourself a favor and stop projecting. Amass as much energy as you can. We might need it in the end.” “But—” She pursed her lips when Sheels glared at her. “We don’t have much time.” Yara closed her eyes, breathing in and out, moving her hands in such a way that she looked as though she was fanning the air toward her. The moment she stopped her projection, she felt she left them vulnerable, but she stopped all the urges to project it back. Sheels was right. She was only growing weaker and weaker. If they wanted to triumph in this even though they had a slim chance, they should pres