**Chapter 3: Your Name Is.**
After Lyra had passed out from her interaction with the mysterious crystal, she slowly regained consciousness to find herself sprawled across the familiar quilt of her childhood bed in her grandmother's quaint shop. The room was a sanctuary filled with an eclectic mix of books, maps pinned on her walls and desk, and trinkets gathered from the lowest level of the spiral. And a small wooden figurine of Sylvan, her favorite guardian out of the seven, stood majestically on her cluttered nightstand, its intricate carvings catching the light in a way that made it appear almost alive. To Lyra, Sylvan embodied the strength and charisma qualities she admired most.
"W-what happened? How did I end up here in my room?" she mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep as she stretched her arms above her head. Her confusion deepened as her heart raced. "Oh, wait! Where's the crystal?!?" Panic seeped into her tone as she began to search her room frantically, moving books aside and tossing trinkets off her desk in an effort to unearth the artifact that had inexplicably overwhelmed her.
The soft creak of the door pulled her attention, and her grandmother stepped in, her expression a mix of relief and concern. "Oh, you're awake, dear. I thought I lost you," she said, gently closing the door behind her to shut out the world.
"One of the researchers from that fancy place said you fainted in the square," her grandmother continued, her voice steady yet soothing. "He mentioned you collapsed for reasons unknown to him. Oh dear, you must have been so frightened."
Lyra dropped back onto her bed, feeling an unsettling wave of defeat wash over her. She had almost convinced herself that they had taken the crystal from her.
Sighing deeply, she murmured, "Yeah, it was pretty scary, alright. I saw something in my head… I think." She slid her arm over her eyes, blocking out the memories she wasn't ready to confront.
As her gaze turned to the ceiling, her mind wandered back to the boy. The fleeting image of his face was etched in her memory. "What happened to him?" she whispered, the urgency in her voice palpable.
Her grandmother's demeanor shifted, her brow furrowing as she delivered the news. "They took him to that fancy place. They say he's alive, though half his body is gone." The gravity of her words weighed heavily in the air, transforming the light-hearted atmosphere of the room into one of somber reality.
With a sudden seriousness in her tone, her grandmother leaned closer. "Lyra, listen to me. You must stay away from there. Do you hear me? Whatever fell from the Spiral isn't any of our concern."
Lyra sat up, alarm flaring in her chest. "Wha—" she started, but her grandmother's stern gaze silenced her.
"I don't want you to get caught up in that mess like your mother did. Things are already bad enough, and I can't bear the thought of losing another one," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she fought back tears that threatened to spill over.
Lyra nodded, feeling a rush of empathy for her grandmother. Seeing her vulnerability was unsettling yet profound, a rare glimpse into the depths of her worry
"Now get some rest, dear. I still have a shop to run," her grandmother said, her voice regaining its composure. She turned and closed the door gently behind her as she made her way back downstairs to her stall, leaving Lyra alone to contemplate the weight of the day's events and the turmoil that lay ahead.
As the first light of dawn crept through the small gaps in the cold, sterile room, the boy stirred from an uneasy slumber. He awoke to find that his torn-off arms and legs had been replaced with sleek, metallic limbs that glinted unnaturally in the dim light. Confined within a seemingly unbreakable glass enclosure, he felt a sense of panic swell within him.
"Ah, you're finally awake, kid. Do you like your new replacements?" A woman's voice broke the silence, drawing his gaze. Her long, streaks of gray hair cascaded around her shoulders, and there was a strange glint in her deep-set eyes. "You fell from the upper layers of the Spiral. We don't know why you survived. You were lucky, truly lucky."
A shiver ran down his spine, but he remained silent, his primary focus on adjusting to his new, unfamiliar body. Waves of confusion crashed over him as he struggled to grasp the situation in which he found himself.
With a sharp tap against the glass, the woman's effort to draw his attention startled him. He instinctively moved into a frightened stance, his new, robotic limbs whirring softly at the joints.
"Don't worry, we won't hurt you," she assured him, her voice softening. "Let's get to know each other, okay? You can call me Indra. Now, what about you? What's your name?" She maintained eye contact, her expression shifting to one of genuine curiosity.
"I-I don't know… I don't know anything at all," he stammered, his gaze flickering down to the seamless, metallic surface of his new arms and legs, each movement feeling foreign and unsettling.
"How about Sol?" Indra proposed with a smile that softened the sharp lines of her face. "Something short and unique just for you, hm?" She knelt down, attempting to meet him at eye level through the glass.
"Sol?" he repeated, the name tasting strange yet somehow comforting.
"Yes! From now on, your name is Sol! Now, Sol, can you recall anything from before or after the fall?" Indra's voice was soothing, like warm sunlight cutting through a fog.
Sol's gaze drifted back to his robotic body, fluctuating between curiosity and dread. "I don't remember anything. I don't even know what you are or how you did this to my arm," he replied, intrigue tinged with fear.
"Oh, those?" she gestured toward his limbs. "We had them custom-made for you! They might not be the same as the ones you've lost, but hey, they beat being immobilized forever, right?" She stood and took a step back, giving him a moment to process.
"Do you remember where you came from? Or your parents?" Her face turned serious; she was no longer just playing the friendly stranger.
"No," he answered, confusion etching deeper lines on his youthful face.
"Do you recall falling from that massive spiral out there?" She pointed towards a picture hanging on the wall. An enormous, twisting structure that seemed to scrape the very heavens.
"No," he replied, shaking his head vigorously.
"Then how about this: You were screaming when you first woke up here. What was that about? You can tell us anything," she said softly, kneeling once more to maintain eye contact, her expression filled with empathy.
"I-I heard this voice in my head that made my head hurt like hell," he admitted, clenching his new fists with frustration.
"Interesting… What did this voice say? Did it speak clearly?" Indra's eyes narrowed in concentration.
"I—I forgot. Sorry." Regret colored his voice, a wave of sadness washing over him.
"It's okay," she reassured him. "You did seem to suffer from memory loss due to the high fall from above."
Sol's chest tightened at the word "above." It felt strange, like foreign syllables rolling off his tongue. The echo of it filled the enclosure, reverberating against the transparent walls, as if it were a reminder of an emptiness he couldn't fully comprehend.
"Yeah, remember what I told you before? You fell from the spiral," Indra reiterated, showing him the image once more, her tone edged with urgency.
He concentrated, delving into the murky depths of his mind. Flickers emerged from his memories. Faces, places, sounds, fragments of memory surfacing like bubbles in a thickened brew. A city cloaked in ash, the sky painted a violent red, and a shadowed figure standing with its back turned away from him. The details ebbed away just as quickly as they had appeared, leaving him feeling hollow and adrift.
"Let's stop here for now, okay, Sol? But please, try your best to remember the things you've lost. It's important for both me and you," she urged, her voice laced with a sense of urgency and concern. As she stood and brushed off her coat, the door slid shut behind her, and the soft click resonated in the enclosed space.
Silence enveloped him like a heavy blanket, pressing down and suffocating as he sat on the cold floor of his enclosure, grappling with the weight of his lost identity and the haunting fragments that danced just beyond his grasp.
"For some reason, I can't shake the feeling that I can't trust Indra," he muttered under his breath, his brow furrowed as he sat alone in the dimly lit room, the muffled sounds of distant voices barely reaching him.
Meanwhile, Indra continued her brisk walk through the bustling research facility, pausing only for a moment to collect her thoughts before she reached her messy work area. The rickety chair creaked beneath her as she sat down, picking up the phone with a determined expression, as she calls one of her subordinates.
"Did the contract agree?" she inquired, her voice steady yet laced with an undercurrent of urgency.
"He said he'll do it, but only if we comply with his conditions," her subordinate replied, hesitating, as if the weight of his words lingered in the air.
Indra exhaled slowly, frustration etched on her features. "What are they?"
"He insists that if we allow him complete freedom, no questions asked, and that he won't be held accountable for anything he does to the boy," he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Fine, whatever," she snapped, her eyes narrowing with resolve. "But we need him alive unless he turns rogue. Tell him that clearly! This guy we're hiring is extremely dangerous, and we must keep him in the dark about it." With that, she abruptly ended the call, the click of the phone resonating like a final note in a tense symphony.