Morning never came to Nefra.
There was no sunrise… no warm light slipping over the horizon.
Only a gradual shift.
The deep blue of night faded slightly, settling into that cold, artificial shade that carried no meaning of time.
Rowan hadn't slept.
He lay on his bed, staring at the metallic ceiling, his eyes open for… he didn't know how long.
The mirror.
The word.
The voice.
Everything was too clear.
And that was what made it terrifying.
"Hallucination…"
he whispered to himself.
But even now, he didn't trust his own voice.
He sat up slowly, as if his body didn't fully belong to him.
His gaze drifted toward the bathroom.
The door was half open.
And the mirror… was inside.
He didn't move.
Something inside him refused to get closer.
But something else—deeper—was pulling him in.
"The Reference…"
he murmured under his breath.
Suddenly—
his vision flickered.
Just for a second.
As if reality itself had cracked… then snapped back.
He froze.
"…No."
He stood up abruptly.
This wasn't normal.
And that confirmed one thing:
If he stayed here… he would lose his mind.
The Third Institute.
The one place no one asked about.
And no answers were ever given.
It lay in Sector Three of Nefra—a zone absent from public maps, yet undeniably real.
A massive gray structure.
Almost no windows.
Surrounded by walls designed to suppress sound and vibration.
Even the air around it… felt different.
Colder.
Heavier.
Rowan entered through the front gate.
As always.
The scanner paused at his eyes.
A second longer than usual.
"…"
It said nothing.
But Rowan felt it.
As if the system… hesitated.
Then—
Access granted.
The doors slid open.
He stepped inside.
The corridors were long, narrow, and lit by harsh white lights.
Every step was calculated.
Every corner… identical.
As if the place didn't want to be remembered.
He reached his workstation in the archive.
Level five underground.
A place not meant to hold anything "important."
Just data.
Files.
Memories… stored away.
He sat down.
Tried to act normal.
Activated the system.
A black screen.
Then—
a flicker.
The interface appeared.
But…
it wasn't the usual one.
Error.
Symbols.
Data moving too fast.
"What is this…?"
He leaned closer.
Read a single line.
And froze.
A-9 // STATUS: ACTIVE
His heart skipped.
"No…"
This wasn't part of his job.
These weren't standard archive files.
This was something else.
Something… classified.
Suddenly—
the screen shut off.
Darkness.
His reflection appeared.
But…
he wasn't alone.
Behind him—
something.
He turned sharply.
No one.
He looked back at the screen.
The reflection was still there.
But not behind him.
Inside the screen.
The smile.
The same one.
"Missed me?"
He froze.
"…You?"
The voice didn't come from the device.
It came from inside his head.
"Ignoring me again? That's cruel."
Rowan gripped the desk.
"You… what do you want from me?!"
A quiet laugh.
Amused.
"I want you to remember."
Something shifted in his mind.
A dull pain.
Then—
an image.
A metal table.
Blinding lights.
His body… laid out.
Voices.
Machines.
"…No…"
He squeezed his eyes shut.
But the image didn't fade.
It sharpened.
A voice.
Distant.
"Consciousness unstable…"
"We need the backup."
"Begin the transfer."
Rowan's eyes snapped open.
Sweat.
Rapid breathing.
"What… what did you do to me?!"
Silence.
Then—
"I didn't do anything."
The tone changed.
Calmer.
Deeper.
"I… was you."
Rowan froze.
"Before they took me from you."
His body trembled.
"Who…?"
A pause.
Then—
"The Institute."
The lights went out.
This time—
he heard it.
A faint sound.
As if something deep within the building… had awakened.
Distant alarms.
A red light began flashing.
Rowan stood up.
"What's happening?!"
"They've started," the voice said.
"Started what?!"
"System lockdown."
Cold crept into his limbs.
"Why?!"
And then—
the answer came.
Slow.
Quiet.
Heavy enough to shatter everything.
"Because you woke up."
The corridor outside had changed.
Red lights twisted shadows across the walls.
Doors sealed shut automatically.
Footsteps… in the distance.
Not normal.
Rowan stepped out carefully.
"Where do I go?!"
"Down."
"What?!"
"To where it all began."
Silence.
Then—
"To where I am."
He swallowed.
"I… don't trust you."
A soft chuckle.
"You don't have a choice."
Rowan stopped.
Thought for a second.
Then—
he moved.
Toward the elevator.
The deepest level.
The one he was never allowed to see.
He pressed the button.
-10
The elevator trembled.
Doors closing.
Red light reflecting across his face.
And on the small screen inside—
something appeared.
Not a floor number.
A word.
The same word.
"Reference"
And beneath it—
another one.
"Reinitializing…"
And in that moment—
Rowan realized:
He wasn't uncovering the truth.
He was—