Lira dragged me down the narrow corridor, her grip bruising on my wrist.
The room we left still pulsed with the echo of the shadow's voice—
and every instinct in my body screamed to run faster.
But my legs wouldn't obey.
My mind wasn't fully inside my skull.
My vision swayed between two worlds,
the bleed between them widening:
This world — cold metal, harsh lighting
• The other — white hallway, ghost-child Marin staring through me
The bleeding frames made me nauseous, dizzy, untethered.
Lira forced me to stop in front of a rusted hatch door.
"In here."
She shoved it open and pulled me into a tiny chamber lit by a single amber light.
In the center sat an old neural stabilization chair—
worn leather, exposed wires, and a cracked headrest.
Lira pushed me into it.
"Sit. Now."
I didn't argue.
My mind was slipping too fast.
She grabbed a cable from the control console and clipped it onto the neural band around my head.
"I'm going to anchor you to this reality," she said, voice tight but steady.
"It'll close the bleed. At least partially."
I swallowed.
"What if the shadow is still inside?"
She hesitated.
"Then we anchor harder."
The console hummed to life.
The chair vibrated beneath me, faint at first.
Lira's fingers moved rapidly across the interface.
"Focus on my voice, Elias. Everything else—ignore it."
I tried.
But the voices—the wrong ones—crept in immediately.
"Eli…"
Marin's whisper.
But distant, distorted.
"Come back…"
I clenched my fists.
"Lira, I hear her."
Lira didn't look up.
"That's bleed. Not her. Focus."
The machine's buzz deepened, becoming almost soothing.
I exhaled.
For the first time since we escaped the tunnels,
my vision began to sharpen.
The overlays faded.
The white hallway dimmed.
Reality steadied—
Until a cold pressure pressed against the back of my skull.
A voice slithered into my thoughts:
"Do not shut me out."
I gasped, jerking in the chair.
Lira tightened the anchor's power.
"Stay with me. Don't let him distract—"
Her words cut off.
Her face blurred—
splitting into three frames.
Then five.
Then nine.
I grabbed the armrests.
"Lira—something's wrong—"
The stabilizer lights flickered violently.
The machine screamed—
a metallic shriek.
Lira's eyes widened.
"No—no no no—he's fighting it—"
Static flooded my vision.
Not white.
Black.
The shadow's laugh echoed through the circuitry.
"You try to bind a broken mind."
Pain spiked behind my eyes—
sharp, white-hot.
I screamed.
The chair convulsed beneath me, bolting me upright.
Lira slammed her hand onto the emergency override.
"Elias—STAY WITH ME!"
I couldn't.
The black static poured into my vision,
swallowing the room,
swallowing Lira,
leaving only—
Her.
But not little Marin.
Someone else.
A woman.
Older.
Late twenties.
Hair tied loosely back.
Eyes warm—
the same eyes as Marin,
but deeper,
wiser.
She stood in a dim apartment's kitchen,
sunlight spilling through the blinds.
She smiled at—
At me.
"Eli," she said softly.
"You're awake?"
My breath hitched.
I knew this voice.
I knew it.
I shouldn't.
But I knew it.
She stepped closer.
"You didn't sleep at all, did you?"
Her tone was fond.
Worried.
My heart pounded.
"Who—who are you?"
Her expression broke slightly.
"Oh. We're doing this again."
She brushed her fingers against my cheek.
The warmth was real.
Too real.
"My name is Marin. Your Marin."
No.
No no no.
This couldn't be right.
Marin was a child when I last saw her alive.
A small girl taken into Theta.
She shouldn't be standing here—
grown, alive, familiar.
I stumbled backward.
"This isn't real."
She frowned in confusion.
"Eli… why are you saying that?"
The room flickered.
Behind her—
half a frame overwrote reality—
showing the same apartment but empty and cold.
Another flicker—
showed the apartment burnt out,
charred black.
Another—
showed a hospital room.
Another—
showed nothing but static.
The older Marin didn't change.
She kept reaching for me.
"It's okay," she whispered.
"I'm here. Like I promised."
"No," I said.
"You can't be here. This never happened."
Her eyes softened with sadness.
"Oh, Elias…"
She cupped my face gently.
"You forgot me. Again."
The world cracked like ice.
Lira's voice pierced through the false scene:
"ELIAS—FIGHT IT—THAT ISN'T HER—"
Static tore the apartment apart—
And the older Marin's face twisted—
glitching,
warping,
smiling too wide.
Her voice dropped low:
"He keeps showing you pieces for a reason."
The shadow broke through her shape.
He emerged behind her like a parasite wearing her skin.
I stumbled back, choking.
"You—YOU MADE THAT."
The shadow whispered:
"No. You did."
The false Marin melted away, leaving only darkness.
"She grew up, Elias.
In your mind.
Because you wanted her to."
My blood ran cold.
No.
No—
He wasn't talking about Marin.
He was talking about the missing memory.
About the promise.
About all the years lost.
About a future that never existed.
He whispered:
"You promised her forever.
And when forever wasn't given to you—
you invented it."
The stabilizer exploded behind me.
Lira's scream cut through the static.
"ELIAS—WAKE UP!"
The world shattered.
I bolted upright into the real room, gasping for breath.
Lira was crouched beside me, hair singed, droplets of blood on her temple from shrapnel.
She grabbed my face.
"Elias—stay with me—what did you see?"
I shook uncontrollably.
"Marin," I whispered.
Her hands tightened.
"Which Marin?"
I swallowed.
"The one who shouldn't exist."
Lira's expression changed slowly—
from worry
to dread.
"What do you mean?"
I trembled.
"He showed me a version of her… grown up."
My voice broke.
"Like she lived a full life. With me."
Lira froze completely.
"That's not a hallucination."
I stared at her.
"What?"
She whispered:
"That means there's more than one memory missing."