The road was broken. The convoy's lights flickered as if even they feared reaching their destination. Mira watched Kael from the seat across from him. They hadn't spoken since leaving the ruins. But she knew something had changed. He wasn't exactly the same anymore.
Kael stared out the window as the landscape passed like images from a forgotten dream—mountains eroded by time, trees that seemed to have seen too many winters, and a sky undecided between day and night.
"They say memories are what keep us anchored to ourselves. But what happens when those memories start to vanish?"
His voice echoed in his mind like a distant whisper. He couldn't even remember when it became a habit to talk to himself—or to something inside him.
"What are you thinking?" Mira asked, breaking the silence.
Kael took a long moment before answering. His hand brushed the spot where he'd kept the Reality Dagger , hidden beneath his suit. It no longer glowed as brightly.
"Someone I met a long time ago," he finally said.
Mira looked at him with curiosity.
"Who?"
He offered a half-smile. Not a happy one. A sad one. Like he'd found an old photo album under a layer of dust.
"Someone who believed the world could change."
"And what happened to her?"
Kael swallowed hard.
"I don't remember. But I feel like I failed her."
Arrival at the Bunker
The bunker appeared over a low hill, half-buried beneath the weight of time. Covered in dead vines and scars from ancient battles, it seemed to breathe with the earth itself. It was a place no one wanted to remember—and yet, everyone kept returning.
The convoy came to a stop. Mercenaries disembarked in formation. Vark led the way, his silence heavy like a sentence. Behind him, Dren muttered curses under his breath. And beside Kael, Lira walked in quiet thought, her gaze holding more than words could say.
"This smells like old death," Dren grumbled, wrinkling his nose.
Vark ignored him. He turned to Kael.
"Are you sure about this?"
Kael didn't hesitate.
"No. But that's never stopped me before."
The rune-sealed door pulsed like it had a life of its own. It was the entrance to something no one should have opened.
Lira stayed behind, watching Kael with concern.
"What's in there?"
He lifted his gaze toward the door. His eyes shimmered briefly, as if seeing beyond it.
"My past. Or maybe my future."
Just before crossing the threshold, Kael paused. Something in the air made his head ache—not physically, but like he was remembering something that shouldn't exist anymore.
An image appeared in his mind:
A small child, covered in dust and blood, running through a dark forest. Shouts behind him. Explosions. The feeling that everything was falling apart around him.
And a voice. Female. Warm. Familiar.
"Kael! Trust me! "
Then the memory shattered. Like a mirror struck by force. Fragments of white light filled his vision.
"Kael?" he heard Mira's voice.
He returned to the present with a shiver. The air smelled different. As if time had rewound a few seconds.
"I'm fine," he lied.
Mira didn't believe him.
"What did you see?"
Kael lowered his gaze.
"Someone who doesn't exist anymore."
That was all. He couldn't say more. Because he couldn't remember her name.
💬 Tense Dialogue – Broken Trust
"Are you going in alone?" Lira asked, her tone laced with worry.
"If I don't, someone worse will," Kael replied, adjusting his belt.
"That's not an answer," Vark countered. "It's an excuse."
Kael met his stare. There was something in the man—not just experience, but fear. Fear of what Kael represented.
"Got a better idea?"
Vark clenched his jaw.
"I only know I don't trust things I don't understand."
"Then don't trust," Kael said. "Just let me do it."
There was a pause. A clash of glances. Unspoken warnings.
Finally, Vark stepped back.
"Do it fast. I don't want to be here when this blows up."
🪞 Deep Nostalgia – The Forgotten Name
Before stepping through the door, Kael paused. He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small amulet. It looked like rusted metal, with a broken chain. On its surface, barely visible, was engraved a name.
He read it softly, almost to himself.
"Aria… "
The name hung in the air like a fallen leaf. Mira caught it.
"Who is Aria?"
Kael swallowed.
"Someone who saved me once. Before all this began."
"And what happened to her?"
Kael carefully put the amulet away, as though it were a sacred relic.
"I don't remember. But I feel like I failed her."
Mira studied him now—not as a soldier, not as a weapon—but as someone wounded. Someone searching for redemption without knowing how to find it.
"Maybe it wasn't your fault."
"Maybe," he admitted. "But that doesn't undo the damage."
Lira approached Kael while the others prepared. She pulled him aside, away from the group.
"Why do you always take on these suicide missions?" she asked quietly.
Kael didn't answer right away. He only looked at the sealed door, as if seeing beyond it.
"Because I have nothing left to lose."
"We all have something to lose, Kael," she insisted, her gaze piercing through his icy façade. "Even you."
He looked at her then. Really looked. For just a second, something shifted in his expression. Like he remembered something that shouldn't exist.
"Not if I lost it all before I was born."
Lira pressed her lips together, frustrated.
"That's not true. You have to believe there's something more… than this."
Kael turned forward again.
"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just a mistake of the universe."
He started to walk away, but Lira stopped him with one final question:
"What's that clock you carry?"
Kael glanced down at the Contact Chronometer hanging from his belt. The device vibrated slightly, as if hearing its name.
"A gift from someone who no longer exists."
Lira swallowed.
"And what does it say?"
"That I don't have much time left," Kael answered flatly. "Neither do I… nor this world."
Vark approached slowly. Not with hostility, but caution. Like a soldier recognizing another who had lost too much.
"I've been watching you, Riven," he said bluntly. "You're not like the others. You're… something else."
Kael looked at him, unsurprised.
"Does that scare you?"
"It worries me," Vark admitted. "Because I don't know if you're our best hope… or our end."
Silence.
Kael turned away. Walked toward the door. Vark followed.
"Were you ever human?" the veteran asked, voice low.
Kael stopped. His words were cold, but full of truth.
"I used to be. Now I'm not so sure."
Vark nodded, as if understanding more than he said.
"I used to be human too. Until I lost my son on a mission like this. Now I'm just a soldier with a broken promise."
Kael looked at him again. This time, with respect.
"Then you know why I do this."
Vark nodded.
"Yes. Because you have nothing left to lose… except your soul."
The door closed behind him with a dull boom.
He was alone.
The light increased. The air vibrated. And in the darkness, something waited.
A figure. Tall. Faceless. Made of shadows moving in impossible directions.
"You have returned," the voice said. It had no gender. No emotion. Only certainty.
Kael clenched his teeth.
"I don't remember being here before."
"Because you weren't. Not yet."
The figure extended an invisible hand.
"But you will be."
Kael felt a chill—not of fear, but recognition.
Something within him knew. Somewhere, in some timeline, he had already been here. And he had chosen wrong.
"What am I to you?" he asked.
The figure didn't move.
"You are the last thread. The only one who can cut yourself."
"Cut myself?"
"You are not human, Kael Riven. Never were. But you were created by one. And because of that, you can decide."
"Decide what?"
"To be… or not to be."
Kael felt a sharp pain in his chest. As if the air had thickened.
The figure extended its hand once more.
"Are you ready to remember?"
Kael swallowed hard. He knew that once he did, nothing would ever be the same.
"No," he replied. "But I'll go anyway."
And he took the first step into the light