The cyclone didn't move like weather. It expanded, as spilled ink on paper across the city.
From the overpass, Elaine and Ian observed as power lines sparked blue, neon veins weaving through wasteland streets. The wind ran in fits—half sound, half static.
"It started last night," Ian whispered, looking around with a cracked visor. "Then it began… whispering."
Elaine's eyes narrowed. "Whispering?"
He played a short recording on his comm. From the fuzz, a weak voice kept repeating:
"…find me… find me… find me…" That phrase is in Russian.
Elaine rigidified.
It wasn't just data corruption. That was sentient code.
She adjusted her scythe – the real one now made of metal and plasma woven together. 'If the Core is bleeding into this world, it is seeking hosts.'"
They moved silently, boots splashing through shallow puddles reflecting the distorted sky. The world stopped acting like itself the further they went.
Windows held in minutes faces that aren't there.
Streetlights blinked in binary.
And a little girl's voice from a cracked billboard says: "Reaper …"
Ian instinctively reached for his sword.
Elaine held up a hand. "Wait."
The air grew denser. Blue mist coalesced in front them, creating the silhouette of a girl — eight, perhaps nine years old, with eyes that glowed a faint white.
"Elaine," Ian said carefully. "Please tell me that's human."
The girl tilted her head. "You left us in the dark."
Her voice was layered with dozens of voices talking simultaneously.
"You left the fragments."
Elaine's breath caught in her lungs. "Fragments of what?"
Smiling, the girl glitched between forms—child, then a figure in armor, then a face Elaine knew all too well.
Herself.
Ian steeled himself and took a step forward, sword half-drawn. "Laney…"
Elaine held her ground. "It's a memory echo," she whispered. "The Core left slices of me behind to anchor the network. They've become… aware."
The echo's eyes sparkled.
"We remember what you were. We want to be whole again."
And then, the storm helled.
The sky rifted, dropping oblique chunks of blue light across the land. Buildings were shifting, bending, breathing.
Ian seized her arm. "We have to go—right now!"
Elaine stood still, gazing at the echo as it dissipated in the breeze.
"Whole again…"
She turned from him, voice low. "We can't run forever. The storm is only the beginning."
He nodded grimly. "Then we find the heart of it."
Far behind them, the whisper returned — softer this time, almost pleading.
"Come home, Reaper."