Chapter 11 · Ghost in the Machine

"Stop digging into things you aren't supposed to see, Kael." Sila’s voice was a low warning, her hand tightening on the grip of her rifle as she stepped closer, crowding into my personal space.

I didn't move. I couldn't. My vision was still swimming with gold-tinted code, strings of Old World data screaming across my retinas like a digital fever. "I'm not digging," I managed to choke out, my voice sounding like I'd swallowed a handful of gravel. "It's... it's digging into me."

Sila didn't buy it. She never did. She reached out, her gloved fingers gripping my chin and forcing my head up. Her eyes were hard, searching mine for any sign of a lie. I could smell the ozone and old gunpowder clinging to her gear, and for a second, the heat from her palm felt like the only real thing in a world made of glitching pixels.

"You’re weaponizing your mind again," she hissed. "If you fry your brain, you're useless to me. And if you're useless, I'm not carrying your corpse back to camp."

"I can't turn it off," I snapped, trying to jerk away, but she held firm.