Lily arched a brow.
"Even Jake?"
A brief silence.
Tim’s lips tilted into a crooked smile.
"Jake... maybe not."
She let out a nervous laugh—a mix of admiration and disbelief.
Then they resumed their exploration.
The garden opened into a darker section. The air turned colder.
Bars. Cells. Dried blood streaked across the stone.
Marks of experimentation.
Lily went pale.
"They used test subjects..."
The cells were empty. All of them. Except one.
At the very back.
A figure sat slumped against the wall, head bowed, long filthy hair hanging over a bearded face. Torn clothes. Skin drawn tight from malnutrition.
He looked asleep.
Or unconscious.
Tim stepped up to the bars and tapped them lightly.
Cling.
The figure flinched. Slowly lifted his head. Tired eyes—then suddenly wide.
Lily’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, and she let loose a string of curses wildly inappropriate for a young lady.
"Holy shit, I must be dreaming! What the hell are you doing here?!"
Despite the beard and grime, the gaunt face was unmistakable.
Peter Brady.
An iconic member of the Myrtharian Nerds.
Alive.
Here.