#The First Echo
#021
They hovered over the map as faint morning light filtered through the ruins. It wasn't true sunlight, more like a dull smear in the haze, but it cast long, twisted shadows across the routes Thorn had marked.
Juno touched the closest node with his finger.
"This one," he said. "It's near. And it connects to three other zones."
Thorn gave a nod. "That's the old memorial node. It's where they first experimented with selective grief locking. If we hit it right, we can trigger a feedback surge."
"A what now?" Eden asked.
"Think of it like pulling a sorrow chain," Thorn replied. "Memories are all interlinked. Tug one hard enough, and others unravel. But someone's got to anchor the grief without being swallowed by it."
His gaze landed on Juno.
He stiffened. "I'm not—"
"You are," Thorn said. "The key picked you. And if I'm right... you've already anchored someone else's grief."
Juno's grip on the soul key tightened.
Asher looked between them. "So we spark it. Then what?"
"Then we run," Thorn said, grim.
He rolled up the map and tucked it into his cloak. "The system will hit back. Fast. But if we do this right, we won't just awaken a node. We'll awaken people. Ones Bliss buried."
Eden folded her arms. "And if it backfires?"
"Then the node consumes us," Thorn said. "But at least we won't go quietly."
That night, they moved.
The memorial node lay beneath the shell of a ruined cathedral—its stained glass shattered, its altar overtaken by moss and data decay. What once was sacred had been twisted into a graveyard of emotion, repurposed by Bliss to store grief from the early conflicts.
Juno walked to the center, soul key in hand. His breath misted in the chill.
"Everyone ready?" he asked.
"Born ready," Eden said, locking and loading.
Asher just nodded, eyes locked on him.
Thorn crouched by the ancient server gate. "Insert the key. But once it activates, you'll see things. Echoes. Not all of them yours."
Juno slid the crystal into the lock.
A low, sorrowful hum rose.
The ground trembled.
And then everything shifted.
The cathedral melted away.
Suddenly, Juno was inside a room he didn't recognize—but somehow knew. A child's room. His hands were small. A voice called his name—his real one, not the one Bliss had assigned. He turned and saw a smiling boy. His brother.
Then he screamed.
Dragged away by a figure shrouded in white and static.
"Juno!" he yelled. "Don't let them—!"
The vision splintered.
He dropped to his knees, gasping for air.
Around him, the cathedral flickered—part memory, part reality.
Asher staggered, clutching his head. Eden cursed, firing at something only she could see.
Juno reached for the key again—it pulsed brighter now, like a living heartbeat.
"Anchor it!" Thorn shouted. "Tell the node your truth! Remember!"
Tears streamed down Juno's cheeks. He screamed—not out of fear, but rage.
"I never forgot him! You stole him from me!"
The pulsing stopped.
The silence that followed was alive.
Then the node imploded—memories bursting inward. Names, faces, screams, laughter—everything Bliss had buried surged forth like a flood.
And within the storm, people stirred.
From broken pews. From beneath crumbling stone. Dozens of forgotten souls blinked awake, eyes empty—but breathing.
Asher stared, stunned. "You did it."
Juno slowly rose, the soul key dimmed in his hand.
He looked to Thorn.
"This is only the beginning."
He nodded. "Now do you see? Bliss didn't erase them. It stored them."
"And now we're waking them," Eden said, awestruck.
Juno scanned the faces—ghosts reborn.
"No," he said.
"We're bringing them home."