Kyi awoke in the heart of Venus, surrounded by silence and the flickering pulses of molten light. The chambers she inhabited were carved into the surface of the planet itself, a place only she and the remaining six Victinions could endure. The environment was harsh—unrelenting heat, acidic winds, and pressure so great that metal would collapse—but to Kyi, it was a mere whisper. She had adapted to worse.
She had adapted to everything.
Her body had slowly evolved over time, surpassing limits that once restrained even the greatest Victinions. Hunger no longer clawed at her belly. Thirst no longer cracked her lips. The very concept of sleep had been rendered obsolete. As her fellow Victinions scurried about in the lower chambers, Kyi sat alone in a hollowed obsidian dome, her thoughts adrift.
Her physical adaptation was complete. Her flesh could not rot, her bones could not break from pressure, her senses sharpened beyond animalistic instinct. She had developed photosynthetic patches along her back, allowing her to convert light into energy. She no longer needed food nor water—she was sustained purely by light and motion. Her sight could now pierce darkness, her ears detect a heartbeat from across an entire planet.
But with these gifts came a yawning void.
"Is this it?" she muttered to herself, staring into the reflective blackness of the obsidian. "Is this the end of my evolution?"
The other Victinions did not understand her despair. They revered her as their future, the peak of their extincting race. Kyi had been the only one to mutate beyond their short lifespans. The other six could feel time scratching at their backs with every breath. They existed only to protect her. They never questioned it.
Yet Kyi began to question everything.
To grow further, she reasoned, she needed something more. She needed a push, a leap, a challenge. And in a flash of a thought too cruel to speak aloud, a single name floated in her mind: Syris.
He had been her closest companion among the six. Soft-spoken, often humming lullabies, and always the one to mend her when the stress of adaptation pushed her body into momentary collapse. If there was love among the Victinions, Syris had given it freely.
So why him?
Because it would hurt the most.
That night, she asked Syris to come to the outer ridge with her. The red mist of Venus painted the horizon like fire on water. Syris followed her without suspicion, smiling like he always did, his body flickering with bioluminescent light in the darkness.
"It's beautiful up here," he said, gazing across the landscape.
"Yes," she replied flatly. "It's the only place where I can think clearly."
Syris turned to her, concern edging into his eyes. "What's wrong, Kyi?"
"I need to adapt. I need more. I feel like I've reached my peak and it's not enough."
Before he could respond, her hand shot forward like a blade.
Her body adapted mid-motion, evolving a hardened edge from her palm, slicing cleanly through Syris's neck.
He fell silently. No scream, no struggle. Just disbelief in his fading eyes.
Kyi stood over his body, trembling. Her heart raced. For a moment, she thought she felt something—an awakening, a transformation—but it faded.
Nothing had changed.
She knelt, touching Syris's still-warm face. "Why... why didn't it work?"
Below, the other five felt the disturbance. They rushed to the ridge, finding her alone, knees in red dust, with Syris's body cradled in her arms.
They did not speak. But their eyes—their faith—shattered.
She didn't try to explain. She couldn't. She had killed their brother, their friend. And for what? A theory?
Her voice cracked as she whispered, "I thought... I thought this would be the next step. But this... this is all I can be. This is the peak."
The eldest Victinion stepped forward, her face a mask of rage. "You betrayed us. You betrayed him. For nothing."
Kyi stood and faced them. The glow in her body flickered. "Then I will seal myself away. As punishment. As repentance. I will not allow myself to heed the calling."
"The calling?" another asked.
Kyi looked at the skies. "The one that tells me to dominate. To expand. To rule. If I listen to it now, I will only bring ruin."
And without another word, she walked into the inner sanctum—a chamber sealed by her own DNA, impossible to open from the outside. The five watched the door close, the air lock hiss. A silence heavier than any pressure fell over them.
Kyi sat in darkness.
For the first time in her long life, she did not try to adapt. She merely sat, remembering the warmth of Syris's hums, the way he used to carve names into the stone walls of their home. She would not let herself forget.
Outside, Venus spun on, uncaring. But inside that chamber, the strongest Victinion sat still, buried under the weight of her own evolution.
And for the first time...
She wept.