Elaine bobbed in murk.
Not the sort that would conceal — the sort that eavesdrops. Every thump of the heart roared like an earthquake; every breath was taken in by white noise.
Her hands twitched as she was restrained by accordance to invisible fetters, the wrists glowing dimly with the same blue light she had seen in the eyes of her shadow. The Core had confined her in a construct – a cage constructed from her own code.
Snatches from the outside world danced at the back of her eyes:
Ian's voice, Ian's face, Ian fighting.
"Ian… no," she breathed, tugging at the digital chains. "You weren't supposed to follow me."
The system answered with a low hum. The Core's interface flared on — a myriad of multiplexed data streams, each a replay of her life. Her first mission.
Her first kill.
Her first moment of fear.
"You see now," the voice of her shadow whispered from beyond the cage. "You and I were always the same. All you had to do was take the fucking mask off!"
Elaine bit her lip. "I'm not you."
"Aren't you?" replied the shadow. "You created me when you started lying to yourself."
The cage walls melted away — scenes from her past distorting, melting, becoming Ian's face. His enemies surrounded him, their forms distorting into ghostly versions of her own.
"Ian!" she yells.
She punctured the illusion with her voice. A shockwave exploded from her core — unprocessed information gushing through the chamber. The restraints burned away, and for the first time, the Core reacted to her will.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Thread Core shrieked as Elaine pulled the thread tighter. Every part of her code started to go up in flames, strands of light running up her arms as constellations forming need her skin.
The system protested—
[Warning: User's integrity compromised.]
[Containment protocol activated.]
Elaine didn't care. She went further, deeper into the algorithmic veins of the Core itself, feeling it breathes with hers. It wasn't resisting her anymore. It was listening.
"You thought you could rewrite me," she whispered, her voice ringing out across the chamber. "But you forgot who made the mask."
Her shadow-self appeared again—half-formed, trembling, its voice now not cold but begging.
"If you merge me with you, you'll lose yourself."
Elaine's eyes blazed white blue. "Maybe I already did."
She moved forward and placed her hand on the shadow's chest. The darkness folded in on itself, being swallowed by the light. For a second, there was quiet—then the Core screamed.
Light exploded outward, splintering the chamber into bits of data. Her hair lifted in the current, the ends glowing like strands of starlight. When she looked back again, her pupils had disappeared -- all that remained were glowing voids. Every wall, every circuit, every encrypted lock unfolded before her like a living map. She saw everything: the data flow, the architecture of the Core, even the heartbeat of her brother — digitally beating — continuously struggling.
"Ian…" she whispered. "I see you."
The Core whispered back, almost reverent.
[Designation updated: NIGHT REAPER PRIME.]
Elaine hovered above the crumbling decking brambles power in rippling waves emanating from her. Never before had the system been her enemy. It was her tool.
And through all that clutter, the entity that ran the Core—the real architect—was aware of her awakening.
"So," a distant voice murmured, smooth and amused. "The Reaper remembers."