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The city erupted like a scar etched into the world.
Spire-spires of stone bent at impossible geometries, jagged spires reaching towards the violet-misted sky. Streets were half-swamped in stillness, the sort that stretched too far and wore thin at the fringes. And in the center—held fast by great chains of soulsteel—was a tower that seethed with remembrance.
Rin gazed at it with a queasy feeling of déjà vu.
"I've seen this before," she whispered.
Kael's fingers scraped the hilt of his sword. "When?"
"In a dream… perhaps. Or perhaps in Reika's recollection. I don't know anymore." She clapped a hand to her head. "Everything's blurring together."
They navigated with caution through the city. Shadows here did not obey rules—slower, then quicker, and sometimes just stopped. At times, Rin heard whispers pinging off windows without anyone inside.
Her name.
Kael's.
And sometimes—Reika's voice.
Shouting for help.
A low throb hummed beneath their feet as they walked toward the tower. With every step, they drew closer to something thick and awful. And then—suddenly—a hard presence fell from overhead, landing in front of them and the gate.
A boy.
Not more than fifteen.
Wearing robes frayed at the bottom, his eyes shiny gold like melted glass. A cracked timepiece hung on his neck. His voice was light, but had power.
"You shouldn't be here."
Kael at once moved in front of Rin, sword half-pulled.
"No fight," Rin said hastily. "We came for Elias Faelan. We believe he's inside."
The boy's eyes snapped sharper. "You believe?"
Rin blinked. "Wait… you're—"
"I'm Elias," he said, head cocked to one side. "Or what's left of him."
The air moved. The buildings tilted in.
Rin took a step forward over Kael's tension.
"You were an Anchor," she whispered. "Reika told me about you. You remembered things others couldn't."
"I remember too much," Elias whispered, voice breaking. "That's why they imprisoned me here. Memory is a burden, and I would not let go."
He touched the side of the tower, and chains hissed in response.
"They said that forgetting was mercy," he whispered. "But I could not forget her."
"Reika," Kael said.
Elias winced as if the name had been a slap. "She left. She had to. And I… lingered. I saw the world die over and over, and each time I was the one who remembered the fragments nobody else cared about."
Rin's heart writhed. "You're stuck in your own head."
"In everybody's head," Elias answered, eyes shining brighter. "I'm the one they couldn't delete. The secret even the Watchers don't dare touch."
Rin moved slowly forward. "We're not here to wipe you out. We need you. The threads are unraveling again. People are disappearing. Threads are snapping."
Elias looked at her for a moment.
Then… he smiled.
It was a miserable, empty thing.
"You say that as if I wasn't already shattered."
He backed away from the door of the tower.
"But if you've come this far," he said without looking back, "you may as well see what memory really costs."
The gate groaned as it opened.
Inside the tower, memory clung to the air like fog. Walls flickered with half-formed moments—laughter and pain and everything in between. Names hung in the air like constellations. Threads reached from floor to ceiling, weaving around Elias like a cocoon.
"I tried to keep her alive," he said softly. "I tried to keep all of them alive."
He looked at Rin, eyes aching.
"You've heard them too, haven't you? The voices that linger."
"I have," Rin whispered.
"You know what it means."
Rin nodded. "It means I'm one of you."
Elias walked closer, hand trembling as he placed it over her chest.
"You hold a shard of Reika," he told me. "But you're not her. Not yet. And if you wish to discover her—really find her—you'll need to risk everything you are."
Kael finally spoke after what felt like minutes.
"She won't do it alone."
Elias looked at him. "No. She never does. That's the problem."
The strands in the air started to throb, as if responding to their presence.
"There's a door below this tower," Elias told her. "It takes you to where memories go to die. That's where Reika disappeared. That's where you'll be able to find her next piece."
"And you?" Rin asked.
Elias smiled once more—this time with something gentler in it. "I'll wait here. If you come back… maybe I'll have the will to try again."
Rin moved closer, eyes never leaving his. "You're not just memory. You're choice."
She reached out, gently taking his hand.
"We'll come back for you."
He held her gaze, then slowly nodded.
And with that, the floor beneath them cracked open.
A spiral staircase of memory threads unfolded downward, each step stitched with names, each breath heavy with what had been lost.
Kael took Rin's hand once more.
And together, they began the next descent.