Fate Line

Chapter 7

The morning had come. A soft golden light seeped through the curtains, falling directly onto Ellian's face. He winced, turned slightly, but the light was persistent. He had no choice but to wake up.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, yawned, and sat up on the bed. Sleep still clung to him, reluctant to let go. Echoes of the night's dreams pulsed faintly in his mind—voices, light, that figure… But all of it faded now, replaced by the stillness of morning, the scent of food, and the soft noise coming from downstairs.

He got dressed, threw on a sweatshirt, and stepped out of his room. As he descended the stairs, familiar voices, laughter, and clinking dishes reached his ears.

Peeking into the dining room, he saw everyone already at the table. Iris, Silas, Kane, and the rest—some sipping tea, some already eating, some chatting with relaxed smiles. The atmosphere was warm, almost familial.

Ellian quietly walked in and, without saying a word, joined them.

"Good morning," Iris smirked, sipping from her mug.

Ellian offered a faint smile, but said nothing. The shadow of the dream still lingered deep inside him. But for now—let it be just morning.

But as resolve began to form inside him, Ellian felt doubt gnawing from within.

"On one hand… I'm just an ordinary boy," he thought.

"What can I even do? Who would listen to me? I don't have power, or proof, or knowledge… Just dreams. Just guesses."

But something inside him refused that. Something stubborn, firm. He understood: even if he was just a boy—he saw, he heard, and he felt that none of this was random.

"Even if I prove nothing… I'll try to find suspicions. Anything. Something that points to Nael…"

When breakfast ended, and they cleared the table, everyone went their separate ways to their rooms. Ellian quietly climbed back to his.

He closed the door, leaned against it for a moment, and took a deep breath.

That was it. He had made his decision.

He walked to his desk, pushed aside his notebooks, pulled out a blank sheet of paper, and sat down. The first pieces of a plan were already forming in his head.

At the top, he wrote:

Plan: Find suspicions about Nael

Under it, he began to write slowly:

• What I already know about him:

– His name is Nael.

– He's a scientist who speaks of other worlds.

– His idea became popular.

– He appeared in my dreams.

– He said I "think correctly."

– I saw that girl. She said not to stop.

• What I need to find out:

– Where is he now?

– What is he working on?

– Who supports him?

– Is there access to his research?

– Is there a link between his actions and my dreams?

• What I can do right now:

– Search everything about him online.

– Ask Iris or Kane if they know anything more.

– Try to trigger that dream again.

– Be alert to anything strange.

He set the pen down and looked at the list. It was only a first step—but it was a step.

"If there's even a chance Nael is involved in something dangerous—I'll find it," he murmured, staring out the window.

Outside, the sun was climbing higher. The day was beginning.

But for Ellian, something far greater had begun.

After finishing his plan, Ellian set the pen down and exhaled deeply. His head buzzed with tension—too many thoughts, too many questions. He needed air. Just a breath.

He stepped quietly out of his room. The house was almost completely silent—only the faint crackle of wood and distant creak of footsteps somewhere upstairs. Everyone seemed to be in their rooms, occupied.

He went downstairs, put on his shoes, zipped up his jacket, and stepped outside.

The day was warm and clear. Not a cloud in the sky. In the distance, behind the houses, laughter of children echoed.

He walked down the sidewalk, not thinking where—just walking. Occasionally, children dashed past playing ball, parents sitting on benches in the distance, chatting quietly. Everything felt too… calm. Too ordinary.

But inside Ellian—nothing made sense.

Thoughts leapt from one to another, tangled, colliding, repeating. It was like fog.

And then—one clear thought broke through it all:

"What if… I sneak into his lab? Nael's lab."

He stopped in his tracks.

The idea felt insane. Dangerous. But… logical.

If he wanted the truth, if he wanted proof—he had to act. He wouldn't figure out anything staring at ceilings.

"The lab…"

He spun around and ran home, blindly. A new plan already blooming in his mind.

He stormed into the house, skipped steps two at a time, and dashed into his room.

He opened his laptop, sat down, and typed:

Nael's laboratory. Location. Public information. Project headquarters.

He knew—if it truly existed, there had to be some trace. And if luck was with him… he'd find a way in.

He searched, page after page, articles, old interviews, conference transcripts—but no exact information about the lab's location. Every detail was either erased or hidden.

But Ellian wasn't giving up. He decided to try a different angle—through Nael's investors and managers. If they were involved, they might know the location.

He created a fake identity. Invented a name, claimed to be an independent journalist from a publication covering scientific innovation. In the email, he politely offered to do an interview with Nael's team, "to present a great scientific breakthrough" and "show the world an honest view of the scientist's mission." He even pretended to be a passionate admirer.

Sent it. Waited.

The reply came almost instantly.

"Sorry, but this project is not open for public access. The laboratory is restricted. All details are strictly confidential."

Cold. Precise. No room for discussion.

But Ellian still wasn't done.

He created a new email, a new name, and dove deeper: private sites, internal forums, databases, hidden academic portals. Anywhere he could find even a sliver of info.

During the process, exhaustion overtook him. He dozed off right there, head on the keyboard.

A few hours later, he woke up. The laptop screen glowed faint blue, and several new emails were in his inbox. He quickly scanned them…

Most—nothing. Replies were like:

"Sorry, exact coordinates unknown."

"Nael's project is closed to the public."

"Contact is only via secure channels."

Ellian bit his lip. Too much secrecy. Too tightly guarded.

And then, a new idea struck him.

It was bold, risky, but maybe the only shot.

Ellian took a clean sheet, smoothed it on his desk, and breathed deep. The time had come. He knew: if he couldn't find the lab directly, he had to think differently. Strategically. Coldly.

He began building a new plan—this time using deduction.

"If the lab is definitely in this city… I'll find it. Even if I have to check every zone myself."

The city was large, but not infinite. And Ellian had time.

He reasoned logically:

Nael's lab—secret facility.

It must be in an isolated area.

So, not in the center. Not near homes.

It still needs infrastructure: electricity, water, security.

But also—quiet, secrecy, isolation.

He opened the city map. He started circling all zones that fit:

– abandoned industrial zones

– old warehouses

– outskirts of residential areas

– closed academic buildings

– high-security areas with no labels

After a few hours, he had around 17 locations. He marked them on the map, labeled each: "abandoned building," "unmarked new structure," "standalone secured facility," etc.

This was a chance.

He knew—if he checked every one, one would be it. He could feel it.

Ellian packed his backpack quickly: water, charger, notebook, map, a small binocular, black cap—just in case—and left the house without telling anyone.

He headed into the city.

Now the real hunt began.

He didn't know how long checking 17 places would take. A day. A week. But he wouldn't stop until he found Nael's lab.

He reached the first point by noon. The place looked exactly how he imagined—huge abandoned factory, surrounded by tall rusty metal fences, behind which lay piles of junk, debris, and broken remnants of a past life. Everything was dusty, overgrown, forgotten by the city.

He scanned the perimeter. No cameras, no guards—nothing. Just silence, a tilted sign, and the breeze pushing dry leaves.

He found a spot where the fence bent, and climbed over. His steps echoed on the concrete ground. He walked along the wall, checking doors—all welded shut or leading to empty spaces.

Inside—nothing. Hollow echo. No trace of a hidden lab.

"Well… Of course it wouldn't be the first one," he muttered, backing away.

He climbed back over the fence, brushed off his clothes, and pulled out his paper city map.

The next point was on the opposite side of the district—an old unused area near the water treatment plant.

He walked to the nearest stop and boarded a bus.

It took around half an hour, but he knew the route—he had memorized the map at home. On his lap, the printed city layout again, where he crossed out the first spot and circled the next.

16 left.

But Ellian felt—he was one step closer.

The second point greeted Ellian with a massive abandoned house—tall, gray, with shattered windows and peeling walls. Around it—again, trash, weeds, concrete slabs, twisted rebar. The place looked dead, just like the factory.

But again, a thought flared inside him:

"What if the lab isn't outside, but hidden below? In a basement?"

Why not—old buildings could hide anything.

He pushed the door—it creaked but opened.

Inside was empty. Bare walls. Peeling paint. Rooms with no furniture. In some, even floors were gone—just concrete slabs and rubble. He checked every room, every corner, every crevice—but no signs of equipment, no doors, no people. Only hollow echo.

He found a narrow corridor that might lead downward.

"Maybe a basement…" he muttered.

But—nothing.

No steps down. No hatches. Not even a hint of an underground level.

Just an empty, half-built or abandoned house.

He sighed.

"Alright. No luck—cross it off."

But just as he turned to leave—he heard voices outside.

He froze.

Everything inside him tightened. He spun around and looked out the window—silhouettes.

Men. Several. Talking. Walking toward the house.

Panic.

He rushed toward the back of the house—looking for an exit, back door, anything.

But… nothing. No doors, no shattered windows to climb through.

"Damn... Damn!"

He bolted up the creaky stairs to the second floor, pressed against the wall, and peeked through the window. Below, at the porch, stood a group of four men—in construction vests, holding a tablet, measuring tape, and some tools. One of them was clearly in charge—pointing at the house, discussing something with the rest.

Ellian held his breath.

What were they doing?

He stayed hidden, trying not to even move the curtain.