True to his word, the next day she heard the quiet rustle through the duct — something being pushed, tied to a string. She reached in, careful not to make noise. Wrapped in plastic and cloth was a small tube — like those used in medical clinics — sealed tightly. She didn’t understand at first.

“Jace… what is this?”

He whispered, “It’s part of me. So we can make something that lasts beyond this place.”

Her breath caught. The idea was insane. But somehow, she just sat in silence, the tube warm in her hands.

Over the next week, the prison was unusually quiet. No guards came by. No calls for meals. Mira barely noticed. Her mind was racing.

And then she made the decision. Using a thin plastic glove and a makeshift applicator she’d once used to treat a cat’s ear infection years ago — something she’d kept hidden — she did what no one would believe.

Weeks later, Mira felt off. Nausea. Dizziness. A warmth she couldn’t explain.

She was pregnant. Warden Hale stormed into the solitary wing with disbelief written all over his face. “This is impossible,” he muttered. “No physical contact. No male staff. No breaches.”

Investigations followed. Rumors spread like wildfire. When nothing turned up, they searched the vents.

That’s when they found the remnants — cloth strips, plastic wrappings, improvised tools. It was crude, almost absurd. But real.

Mira was moved to the infirmary wing. She refused to name the father. She simply said, “It was through the vents. That’s all I’ll say.”

Months later, she gave birth to a healthy baby boy — the first child ever born in Graystone. Inmates across the prison cheered quietly from their cells, passing notes through cracks in the wall. They called him “The Airborn.”

Jace? He was never seen again. Some claimed he was released early. Others said he had been transferred. Mira never found out. But every so often, she would hear a soft knock at night, deep in the ducts, like a ghost tapping to remind her — I’m still here.