The alarms shrieked through the institute like banshees, red lights strobing across every surface until my office looked like the inside of an ambulance. I pressed my hands over my ears, but the sound seemed to burrow into my skull, mixing with the phantom screams from my vision.
"What's happening?" Callum shouted over the noise, his face pale in the flashing crimson light.
Before I could answer, my office door burst open. Maren stumbled in, her red hair wild, glasses askew, clutching a tablet that displayed readings I'd never seen before.
"Sloane, the entire system is overloading!" She had to yell to be heard. "Your scanner just registered resonance values that shouldn't be possible. The main server thinks there's been a catastrophic equipment failure."
The alarms cut off abruptly, leaving my ears ringing in the sudden silence. Emergency lighting cast everything in an eerie amber glow as the main power grid switched to backup systems.
"It's not equipment failure," I said quietly, my voice sounding hollow in the aftermath of chaos.
Maren's eyes darted between Callum and me, her expression shifting from confusion to something approaching fear. "Sloane, what exactly did you two do?"
Before I could formulate an answer that wouldn't sound insane, the wall-mounted monitor flickered to life. A face I recognized from institute training materials appeared on screen—Dr. Leland Ashworth, silver-haired and sharp-eyed, calling in from what looked like a crisis command center.
"Ms. Windsor." His voice carried the weight of absolute authority. "I need you and your client to remain exactly where you are. Do not leave the building. Do not attempt any further soul imprint procedures."
"Dr. Ashworth," I managed, my throat dry as sand. "I can explain—"
"No explanation necessary. Your readings have been flagged by our early warning systems for the past week." His gaze shifted to Callum, who had gone very still beside me. "Mr. Hayes. I assume you're experiencing unusual dreams and sensations since arriving in Savannah?"
Callum's jaw tightened. "How do you know my name?"
"Because we've been monitoring bidirectional soul resonance patterns for over three centuries, Mr. Hayes. And yours is the strongest signature we've ever recorded." Dr. Ashworth's expression was grim. "Which brings us to Protocol Zero."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Maren made a small sound of distress, her tablet slipping from nerveless fingers.
"Protocol Zero?" I whispered.
"Mandatory cohabitation and monitoring for individuals whose soul resonance exceeds critical thresholds." Dr. Ashworth's words hit me like physical blows. "Effective immediately, you and Mr. Hayes will be relocated to the institute's observation apartment. You'll remain there under continuous monitoring until we can determine if your connection poses a threat to public safety."
"You can't be serious." The words burst out of me before I could stop them. "You're talking about imprisonment."
"I'm talking about preventing another Mediterranean catastrophe." His voice cut through my protest like ice. "Ms. Windsor, you've read the archives. You know what happens when bidirectional resonance goes unchecked. The 1724 event killed over three thousand people."
The blood drained from my face. He knew I'd been in the archives. He knew I'd discovered the truth about Ercolano.
Callum stepped forward, his scientist's mind clearly processing the implications. "Dr. Ashworth, are you saying that Sloane and I pose some kind of geological threat?"
"I'm saying that uncontrolled soul resonance has historically resulted in catastrophic energy discharges that manifest as natural disasters. Volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, tsunamis." Dr. Ashworth's gaze never wavered. "Your combined readings suggest you're approaching that threshold."
My legs felt weak. I sank into my chair, the full weight of our situation crashing down on me. "How long?"
"Minimum two weeks of observation. Possibly longer, depending on how your resonance patterns develop." He paused, and something almost like sympathy flickered across his features. "I'm sorry, Ms. Windsor. I know this isn't what you wanted to hear. But the alternative is potentially thousands of lives."
The screen went dark, leaving us in the amber emergency lighting. Maren was staring at me with wide, frightened eyes, and Callum had gone completely silent.
"Sloane," Maren whispered, "what the hell is going on?"
I couldn't answer her. Couldn't find words to explain that I was trapped in a nightmare that had been building for three hundred years. The institute was locking us in the same building. For observation.
"I need some air," I managed, pushing past both of them toward the door.
"Sloane, wait—" Callum's voice followed me into the hallway, but I kept walking, my feet carrying me toward the building's rear exit.
The observation apartment was on the third floor—I'd seen it during my initial tour, a fully equipped living space designed for long-term research subjects. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, an open kitchen and living area. Everything we'd need to live together while the institute monitored our every breath.
The irony wasn't lost on me. In my past life, I'd died in Callum's arms. Now I was going to be forced to live with him while trying to prevent history from repeating itself.
Footsteps echoed behind me as I climbed the stairs to the apartment. I didn't need to turn around to know it was Callum—I could feel his presence like a magnetic pull, the same way I'd always been able to find him in our previous life.
"Sloane." His voice was calm, measured, completely at odds with the chaos of the past hour. "We need to talk."
I stopped at the apartment door, my hand on the keypad Maren had given me. "About what? About how we're prisoners now? About how our proximity might trigger a natural disaster?"
"About why you're not surprised by any of this."
The observation hit me like a slap. I turned to face him, and the intensity in his green eyes made my chest tight.
"You knew," he continued, stepping closer. "Before Dr. Ashworth called, before the alarms, before any of this happened—you knew what we were dealing with. The question is how."
I swiped my keycard and pushed open the apartment door, desperate to escape his penetrating gaze. The space was exactly as I remembered—modern, comfortable, and completely equipped with monitoring equipment disguised as everyday objects.
"I came to Savannah because I felt like I was losing my mind," Callum said, following me inside. "Dreams that felt more real than reality. A constant sense that I was missing something crucial. And then I walked into your office and everything clicked into place."
He moved to the kitchen island, his hands gripping the granite countertop. "So I'm going to ask you again, and this time I want the truth. What do you know about what's happening to us?"
The apartment felt smaller with both of us in it, the air thick with unspoken tension. I could feel the monitoring equipment humming around us, recording every word, every gesture, every spike in our resonance patterns.
"I know enough to be terrified," I said finally. "I know that whatever this is between us, it's dangerous. And I know that fighting it might be even more dangerous than accepting it."
Something shifted in his expression—surprise, maybe, or recognition. "Then why do you look like you want to run?"
Because running was exactly what I wanted to do. Because every instinct I had was screaming that proximity to him was a countdown to disaster. Because I'd already watched him die once, and I wasn't sure I could survive losing him again.
"Because," I whispered, "the last time we were together, the world burned."
