Elara woke before her alarm, her body still sore from the endless drills of the previous day. Her shoulders ached, her calves burned, and her mind felt like it had been dragged through fog. The first official day. She sat up slowly, the faint hum of the island’s generators vibrating through the walls.

Across the room, Tessa was a tangled mess of sheets and soft snores. Elara almost envied her—how easily she could just shut everything out and sleep, like the past few days hadn’t happened.

“Wake up,” Elara said, voice low but firm.

Tessa didn’t move.

Elara sighed. “Tessa.”

A muffled groan came from beneath the blanket. “Go away. I’m dead.”

“You’re not dead.”

“Then I wish I was. Everything hurts.”

Elara shook her head, pulling her hair into a bun. “You’re acting like we climbed a mountain yesterday.”

“We practically did,” Tessa’s muffled voice complained. “Those stairs were evil. And those supervisors—psychopaths in lab coats.”

Elara smiled faintly despite herself. “You’ll survive.”

“Doubt it.”

She crossed the small room, nudging Tessa’s shoulder. “Come on. It’s Monday. Our first real day.”

Tessa peeked one sleepy eye out. “Can’t we start tomorrow?”

Elara laughed softly. “That’s not how jobs work.”

Tessa sat up slowly, rubbing her face. “You sound too cheerful for someone who almost fainted yesterday.”

“I didn’t faint,” Elara said automatically.

“You leaned on the wall for a full minute.”

“I was thinking.”

“You were dying.”

Elara rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh as she slipped into her shoes. It felt good to laugh again. It didn’t happen much before she came here.

Tessa stretched and sighed dramatically. “Alright, alright. I’m up. Happy?”

“Thrilled.”

Tessa grabbed her brush and sat at the edge of the bed. “What do you think your patient will be like?” she asked, yawning.

Elara shrugged. “Hopefully quiet. Someone who doesn’t talk much.”

“Someone boring,” Tessa teased.

Elara smiled faintly. “Someone easy.”

“I just want a kind one,” Tessa said, twisting her hair into a ponytail. “Maybe one who says please and thank you. Maybe even smiles.”

“You think you’ll find that here?”

Tessa sighed. “A girl can dream.”

They both laughed, a quiet moment of warmth between them. The sound felt strange in the sterile room, like it didn’t belong.

Before Elara could respond, a sharp crackle came from somewhere above them. Both women froze, scanning the room.

“Was that—?” Tessa began.

Then a voice came through a hidden speaker above the door—calm, distant, and perfectly cold.

“All staff are to report to the cafeteria immediately for final assignments. Attendance is mandatory.”

The room fell silent again.

Tessa blinked up at the ceiling. “Okay… creepy. Were those speakers always there?”

Elara frowned. “I don’t think so.”

Tessa rubbed her arms. “I swear this place gets weirder every day.”

Movement from the other side of the room caught Elara’s attention. Naomi—quiet, precise, unreadable—was already up and dressed. Her uniform was crisp, her posture straight. Without saying a single word, she buttoned her collar, picked up her badge, and left the room. The door clicked shut softly behind her.

Elara and Tessa exchanged a look.

“Does she ever talk?” Tessa whispered.

“Not much,” Elara said.

“Maybe she’s mute.”

“Or maybe she just doesn’t want to talk.”

Tessa hesitated. “Or maybe she knows something we don’t.”

Elara met her eyes for a moment. The words were meant as a joke, but they didn’t sound like one.

She forced a small smile. “Come on. Let’s go before that voice comes back.”

Tessa groaned again but got up, muttering something about cults and haunted speakers as she tucked her shirt in.

The hallway outside was spotless, its white walls gleaming under fluorescent lights. The faint scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, mixed with something floral that didn’t quite mask it. Nurses moved quietly through the corridor, all dressed in the same white uniforms, all walking with the same rigid composure.

“Why do they look like robots?” Tessa whispered as they walked.

Elara gave her a warning glance, but she couldn’t disagree. Everyone looked the same here—silent, polished, too perfect.

They passed one of the tall windows, sunlight spilling across the glass. The ocean beyond was impossibly blue, calm and endless. But even that view didn’t feel peaceful anymore. It felt… watchful.

The cafeteria was already half full when they arrived. The air buzzed with low murmurs and clinking trays. Everything looked normal—too normal. A buffet of breakfast dishes lined the counter, all of it warm, fragrant, and far better than any hospital food Elara had ever seen.

Tessa’s eyes widened. “Okay, I take it back. Maybe this island isn’t that bad.”

Elara smiled faintly. “You’re easy to win over.”

“Good food heals trauma.”

Elara laughed softly and grabbed a tray. They sat together near the back, the hum of conversation filling the space. For a few moments, it almost felt normal—until she noticed the way the guards stood by the doors, silent and unmoving.

Every exit had one. Watching.

“Do you see that?” Tessa murmured under her breath.

“Yeah,” Elara said quietly. “Just… don’t look too long.”

Tessa swallowed, picking at her toast. “Maybe they’re just here for order.”

“Maybe.”

But Elara didn’t believe that. Not really.

A moment later, the same voice from the speaker system echoed again—only this time, it came from the front of the room. A woman in a sleek white uniform stood on a small platform, clipboard in hand. Her expression was flawless, unreadable.

“Good morning, everyone,” she began. “Today you’ll be assigned to your wards. You’ll meet your supervisors and receive your official schedules. I trust you’ve all rested well after training.”

A soft wave of awkward laughter swept through the room.

The woman didn’t smile. “Each ward has its own rules, patients, and expectations. Follow them closely. Remember—you are here to assist, not interfere. The patients’ comfort comes first. Any misconduct will lead to immediate review.”

Her gaze swept the room, sharp as a blade.

Elara’s chest tightened.

“Assignments will be posted shortly,” the woman continued. “Please remain seated until your names are called.”

Tessa leaned closer. “This feels like a school assembly.”

Elara forced a smile. “A very strict one.”

They waited as the woman began reading names. The sound of the ocean outside was distant, steady, almost soothing in contrast to the tension building in Elara’s stomach.

Then her name was called.

“Elara Roosevelt — Ward Nine.”

She froze.

Ward Nine.

Something about the number sent a chill down her spine.

Tessa gave her a small smile. “Lucky number nine?” she whispered.

Elara tried to smile back, but couldn’t.

She didn’t know why, but somewhere deep inside her, something whispered that Ward Nine wasn’t lucky at all.