Elo's words lingered in the cold air:
"…She looked just like you…"
The room felt suddenly too small—
the lights too bright—
the walls too close.
Rowan froze, fingers clamped around my sleeve.
Horace stiffened beside me, instinct flaring so sharply I felt the heat radiate from his body.
Chandler shifted in front of us, protective and tense.
Lucian's tablet trembled in his hands.
Sev whimpered the moment Elo spoke.
He pressed into my side, gripping my shirt with both hands.
Len crawled forward a little, lowering his head against the floor—
a posture of submission,
fear,
or memory.
Rowan whispered:
"E-Elle…
he's wrong, right?
He has to be—
you didn't—
there wasn't—
someone who looks like you couldn't just—"
He stopped.
Because even he couldn't deny the logic.
The patterns.
The way the entire floor reacted to me like it had been built around my presence.
Lucian cleared his throat softly.
"Elleanore…
we need to understand exactly what Elo remembers."
Horace moved immediately.
"No—she's not interrogating a child."
Chandler nodded.
"Agreed."
But Elo reached for me again.
Not with fear.
Not with confusion.
With familiarity.
"…Elle…"
His fingers curled gently around mine,
like he'd done this before.
Many times.
My breath quivered.
Rowan whispered:
"Oh my god…"
Elo tugged my hand and pointed toward the small resonance chamber.
"…Elle… was here…
She sat…
she cried…"
Sev whimpered loudly.
Len began shaking again, whispering:
"…cry… cry… Elle cry…"
Horace glanced between the subjects, face darkening.
"They're remembering together."
Lucian knelt carefully, lowering his tone.
"Elo…
can you… tell us more about her?
The one who looked like Elleanore?"
Elo stared at him, blinking slowly.
Then turned to me again.
"…Elle…
not you."
The words cut deep.
I swallowed.
"Not me…
someone else with my face?"
Elo nodded.
Rowan let out a strangled sound.
Lucian's brow creased deeply.
"Elleanore…
if a previous anchor resembled you…
the system might be confusing your biometrics with hers."
Chandler clicked his tongue.
"Or deliberately merging them."
Rowan hugged himself.
"But—that means she wasn't some random girl—
she had to be—
connected to Elle somehow."
Lucian didn't deny it.
"Possibly.
Genetics, bloodline, or artificial reconstruction."
Chandler muttered:
"This place gets worse every floor."
Horace's hand slid along my back, grounding, steady, firm.
"Elleanore.
You don't have to hear any more of this right now."
But I shook my head.
"No.
I need to know."
Elo tugged my sleeve again.
"…Elle… she was nice…
she held our hands…"
My chest tightened.
Rowan let out a shaky sob.
"She—
she treated them kindly…?"
Elo nodded.
"…she said she'd come back."
A long silence followed.
Chandler stared.
Lucian's eyes widened.
Horace's grip tightened on my shoulder.
Rowan whispered:
"She promised…
and she never returned…"
Sev covered his ears, rocking slightly.
"…Elle go… no come back…"
Len echoed:
"…Elle lost…"
The word lost made something cold crawl under my skin.
Lucian leaned in.
"Elo…
do you remember where she went?
Did someone take her?
Did she walk away?"
Elo's small fingers tightened around mine.
He shook his head slowly.
"No take…
no walk…
just… gone."
Rowan's breathing hitched.
"Gone?
How?
She didn't leave B7…?"
Elo looked confused—
as if the question itself didn't make sense.
"…door… bright.
Then… gone."
Chandler frowned.
"Bright?"
Horace looked sharply at Lucian.
"Light?
A flash?
Teleportation?
Collapsed memory?"
Lucian shook his head.
"No.
Not teleportation.
Something else."
He checked the wall panel.
Then froze.
"Elleanore."
I stepped closer.
"What is it?"
Lucian tapped the old interface.
"The original anchor file…
it's here."
Rowan's voice trembled.
"S-Show us."
Lucian shook his head.
"I can't.
It's locked behind an administrator key.
Someone sealed it deliberately."
Chandler stepped closer, jaw tight.
"Who sealed it?"
Lucian stared at the screen.
And whispered:
"…Caliban."
Rowan gasped.
Horace's expression darkened with controlled fury.
"Of course he did."
Lucian swallowed.
"And not only that—
the file is labeled as 'Decommissioned.'"
I froze.
"What does that mean?"
Lucian hesitated.
Rowan grabbed his sleeve.
"TELL US."
Lucian's voice lowered painfully.
"It means the original anchor either died…
or was forcibly removed from the project."
Elo shook his head violently.
"No die!
No die!"
He pressed his face into my hip, clinging to my shirt.
"Elle…
Elle… hurt…
but no die…"
Chandler crouched beside him, slower, gentler than usual.
"Kid, look at me."
Elo hesitated.
"Did they hurt her here?"
Elo nodded hard.
"…hurt…
many time…
but she still smile…"
Rowan sobbed.
"Oh god…"
Sev crawled closer and grabbed my arm tightly.
"…Elle cry…
cry…
cry…"
Len covered his face with his bound hands.
Lucian stared at the glowing spirals forming across the walls.
"Elleanore…
you're not just Elliot's anchor."
He pointed at the Phase Zero spirals.
"They were made for her."
He pointed at the Phase One spirals.
"For the version they tried to recreate."
Then he pointed at the twisted, complex spirals on the far walls.
"For the version they tried to perfect."
Rowan whispered:
"And Elliot was…
the final attempt."
Lucian nodded heavily.
"And you—
you were the natural match,
the one who inherited her imprint resonance."
Horace took my hand.
"You are not her.
You are Elleanore."
I nodded numbly.
But Elo tugged my hand again with urgency this time.
"Elle…
more…
see more…"
I knelt so I was eye-level with him.
"What else do you remember?"
Elo stared at the resonance chamber.
Then touched the floor—
tapped once—
then twice—
then paused.
Rowan frowned.
"What's he doing…?"
Lucian pale.
"That's a signal."
Horace leaned in.
"A signal to who?"
Lucian's voice shook.
"To the others."
Rowan gasped.
"T-There are MORE children?!"
Lucian nodded.
"Yes.
Phase Zero wasn't a single subject.
It was a group."
Elo pressed his small palm against the ground again—
tap
tap
pause.
And then—
all around us,
from the dark vents,
from the walls,
from the deeper corridors—
a chorus of small taps answered.
Chandler straightened.
Rowan grabbed my arm.
Horace stepped forward protectively.
Lucian's eyes widened in horror and awe.
Sev and Len pressed into my sides.
And Elo—
he smiled softly.
"…Elle…
they heard…
they're coming…"
The lights above flickered.
The air shifted.
And faint childlike footsteps
began approaching from deeper in B7.
The Children in the Walls
The echo of small footsteps was faint at first—
a soft, scattered rhythm against the metal floors.
Elo held my hand more tightly.
"…they come…"
Sev pressed himself to my left side, trembling violently.
Len mirrored him on the right, hands pressed against the floor as if bracing for impact.
Rowan's breathing grew shallow.
"Elle…
Elle, how many are—
how many are coming?"
Lucian checked the tablet—
then went terribly still.
Rowan grabbed his arm.
"What?
Lucian, what?!"
Lucian's voice was almost a whisper.
"…Nine."
Chandler snapped around.
"NINE?!"
Rowan's knees wobbled.
Horace's stance sharpened instantly, body angled in front of me.
Lucian swallowed.
"There were ten Phase Zero entries in the early files.
Zero-One through Zero-Ten."
Rowan trembled.
"So—so that means—"
Chandler finished, voice low:
"Someone's missing."
Horace added quietly:
"Or dead."
A wave of cold air passed through the corridor.
Lucian raised the tablet again.
"They're small, but they're…
fast."
Rowan stepped closer to me.
"Elle, maybe—maybe we should back up—
just a little—
just—"
But Elo squeezed my hand and shook his head.
"…no run…
no scared…
they love Elle…"
My heart tightened painfully.
Lucian stood straighter.
"He means the original anchor.
Not you."
Chandler muttered:
"Well, they'll have to adjust, because she's the only one here."
The footsteps grew closer.
Soft.
Rapid.
Uncoordinated.
Like a swarm of tiny survivors creeping through the dark.
The first child emerged.
A girl—
no older than six—
with tangled hair
and bare feet
and a metal identification band around her ankle.
She froze when she saw us.
Then her eyes locked on me.
Her lips parted.
"…Elle…?"
Elo tugged me forward gently.
"…yes… Elle…"
The girl's expression crumpled into something like hope—
pure, raw hope.
Then she sprinted toward me.
Horace reacted first, stepping forward—
but I touched his arm.
"Wait."
He paused—
just long enough for the girl to reach me.
She collided with my legs and wrapped her arms around me, burying her face against my coat.
Rowan gasped.
"Sh-She's hugging her—she's really—"
Lucian whispered:
"They really think she's the anchor."
More footsteps approached.
Two more children—
a small boy with unevenly shaved hair,
and a girl with wide golden eyes—
scurried toward us.
Both slowed.
Both stared at me.
Both whispered:
"…Elle…"
Then they approached cautiously, touching my hands, my sleeves, my arm—
like confirming I was real.
Sev made a soft, pained sound.
Len trembled, lowering himself even further.
Rowan wiped his eyes.
"Elle…
what did they do to them…?
They're so little…"
Chandler clenched his jaw.
"They forced imprinting into kids.
Literal kids."
Horace's throat worked, fury simmering beneath calm control.
Elo motioned toward the shadows again.
The rest came slowly—
seven in total, including Elo.
All small.
All wearing remnants of scrubs or hospital tags.
All carrying the same haunted, hopeful look.
Lucian scanned them.
"…They're approximately between ages five and eight…
but their files list them as missing for over ten years."
Rowan snapped his head toward him.
"Meaning—?!"
Lucian stared at the readings.
"They haven't aged normally."
Chandler cursed softly.
"You're telling me they messed with their bodies too?"
Lucian nodded slowly.
"Yes.
Slowed some development, accelerated others…
to keep them at ideal imprinting age."
Rowan covered his mouth.
"No…
no… no no—
These kids…
they were frozen here…"
Elo tugged my sleeve again.
"…Elle…
you came back…
just like you say…"
My heart sank.
"I never made that promise."
Elo blinked.
"Elle did…"
Rowan looked up sharply.
"You mean—
the first one…
the other Elle—
SHE promised."
Elo nodded vigorously.
"…Elle promise.
Elle come back.
Elle love us…"
My stomach twisted painfully.
Horace moved closer.
"Elleanore.
You're trembling."
I took a breath—
but it wasn't steady.
Chandler crouched beside the children.
"Hey."
He tapped Elo's knee lightly.
"When was the last time you saw her?"
Elo tilted his head.
"…long…"
"How long?" Chandler pressed.
Elo made a small gesture—
hands apart,
then further apart,
then farther—
until his arms were wide.
Rowan whispered:
"He doesn't know numbers…"
Lucian nodded.
"They weren't taught time.
But I can estimate."
He lifted the tablet.
"According to the timestamps…
the last imprint session with the original anchor
was recorded thirteen years ago."
Silence fell.
Rowan stared at me.
"Elle…
thirteen years ago…
we were little kids."
Chandler frowned.
"So this girl—this other Elle—
looked like you…
before you even grew up into the face you have now?"
Lucian nodded.
"Not just looked like.
Biometrically similar."
Horace spoke quietly:
"Which means she was a relative."
My breath caught.
"A relative…?
But I—
I don't know anyone like—"
Lucian raised a hand.
"Not necessarily a sister.
Could be a cousin, a half-sibling…
or someone created as a replica."
Rowan's eyes widened.
"A replica…
of Elle?"
Lucian nodded.
"Or Elle is the replica."
The room froze.
Cold.
Silent.
Deadly still.
Chandler stood sharply.
"Watch your words."
Lucian held up his hands.
"I'm not questioning her humanity—
I'm saying the Academy might have tested with one version,
then continued the project with another."
Rowan shook his head violently.
"No—
NO—
Elle is real—
Elle is not one of them—
she's not—"
I placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Rowan.
It's okay."
"No it's NOT—!"
His voice cracked.
"You're my best friend—
you are YOU—
and not some… copy—
not some experiment—
you are REAL—"
He started crying again.
Chandler grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into a rough hug.
Horace stepped closer.
"Elleanore, whatever they created or compared you to—
has nothing to do with who you are."
Lucian nodded.
"This project doesn't define you."
But Elo looked up at me again.
"…Elle…
you stay…?
Not go…?"
He touched my cheek with a small, trembling hand.
Rowan cried harder.
Sev whimpered.
Len hid his face.
I knelt down, pulling Elo into a gentle embrace.
"I'm here."
He clung to me with a tiny sob.
"…don't leave…"
"I won't."
Lucian suddenly stiffened.
His tablet beeped sharply.
Chandler turned.
"What now?"
Lucian whispered:
"The system just registered something else awakening."
Rowan wiped his eyes.
"S-Something else…?"
Lucian swallowed.
"Yes."
Horace moved closer, body tense.
"What is it?"
Lucian turned the tablet so we could see.
A single identifier appeared.
Blinking.
Alive.
SUBJECT 07 — ACTIVE
LOCATION: B7 — DEEP LAB
Rowan gasped.
Chandler cursed.
Horace's breath hitched.
And I—
I whispered:
"Elliot."
Elo tugged my sleeve.
"…Elle…
he was here…
he wait too…"
The children looked up at me with wide, hopeful eyes.
Sev's grip tightened.
Len pressed into my leg.
Lucian whispered:
"Elleanore…
your brother is awake."
Chandler stepped forward.
"Then what are we waiting for?"
Horace touched my hand.
"Elleanore—
you lead."
Rowan took my sleeve.
"Let's bring him home."
Elo pointed toward the deepest corridor.
"…Elle…
this way…"
The lights flickered.
The air grew colder.
And together—
with nine Phase Zero children,
two broken echoes,
and four boys who refused to leave my side—
we walked deeper
into the heart of the floor
that stole my brother.