Dawn crept into the ruined library through shattered stone and broken glass, painting the dust-filled air in pale gold. The city beyond was beginning to wake, unaware of how close this place had come to becoming a disaster.
I remained seated amid the rubble, my back against a cracked pillar.
Every breath felt heavier than the last.
[Guardian condition: Stabilizing.]
[Memory erosion: Ongoing — Low.]
Low.
That word felt dangerously vague.
I closed my eyes and turned inward, examining my thoughts carefully—like checking shelves in a library after an earthquake.
Names… intact.
Faces… intact.
Memories of Earth… still there.
But something was missing.
It wasn't a single memory.
It was a weight.
An emotion I couldn't quite grasp anymore.
I frowned.
What did I lose?
The system, unhelpfully, offered no answer.
Across from me, the hooded woman sat silently on a fallen beam, her hood lowered now. She was younger than I'd expected, sharp-eyed despite the exhaustion on her face. A faint scar ran along her jaw—old, not from last night.
She watched me cautiously.
"You're checking your memories," she said.
I opened my eyes. "How can you tell?"
"Because I've seen that look before," she replied. "On mages who survived backlash."
That made my stomach sink.
"So it's common."
"Common enough," she said. "Usually fatal."
I let out a quiet breath. "Comforting."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The early morning silence pressed in around us.
Finally, she broke it.
"You didn't answer my question last night."
I glanced at her. "Which one?"
"What you are."
I considered lying.
But something in her gaze—sharp, observant, and not entirely hostile—made me hesitate.
"I'm not human," I said slowly. "Not entirely."
Her eyebrows rose slightly, but she didn't flinch. "Figured. Humans don't do what you did."
She shifted, wincing faintly. "So what do I call you?"
I thought about that.
A name carried weight. Power. Memory.
"…Just call me a Guardian," I said.
She nodded once. "Then I suppose introductions are fair. I'm Lyra."
The name settled easily in my mind.
Good.
"I'm," I began—then stopped.
My mouth opened again, but nothing came out.
I froze.
My heart pounded.
I knew I had a name. I knew I had introduced myself thousands of times in my previous life. But when I reached for it—
There was nothing.
A blank space.
[Memory erosion confirmed.]
[Loss detected: Personal Identifier — Partial.]
My breath hitched.
"I… don't remember my name," I said quietly.
Lyra's expression softened. "That's rough."
"That's one word for it."
I pressed a hand to my forehead, fighting the surge of panic.
It took my name.
Not my purpose. Not my past. Just my name.
Something small.
Something precious.
"That's how it starts," Lyra said gently. "Backlash takes pieces that matter, not pieces that are useful."
I laughed bitterly. "Of course it does."
Silence fell again.
Then Lyra stood, stretching carefully. "You should leave. City patrols will be here soon. Mana disturbances don't go unnoticed."
She was right.
I pushed myself up, legs shaky but functional.
As we moved toward the exit, I glanced back at the sealed circle in the floor—the place where the forgotten construct had been forced back into nothingness.
"Will it stay sealed?" Lyra asked.
"For now," I said. "But seals decay. That's the problem with forgetting things. They don't disappear—they rot."
She grimaced. "Cheery thought."
Outside, the city was already alive. No one paid us any attention as we slipped into the morning crowd.
At the edge of the district, Lyra stopped.
"I hunt relics," she said. "Dangerous ones. If what you said is true… we'll cross paths again."
I met her gaze. "Next time, don't touch the seal."
She smirked faintly. "Next time, warn me sooner."
We parted ways without another word.
As I walked alone through the awakening city, I reached up and touched my chest.
The Authority Fragment pulsed faintly.
It had taken my name.
And someday, if I wasn't careful—
It would take much more.
I lifted my head, eyes hardening.
I'll pay the price.
But I'll make sure the world pays it with me.
Because memory wasn't just a cost.
It was the battlefield.
And I was already standing in the middle of it.