The first time someone stole a memory from Ione, it wasn't with a syringe or machine.
It was a kiss.
Quick. Warm. Hesitant.
She couldn't remember who it was now—just the sensation. The trace of it. How it used to replay when she was lonely, then dimmed over time until it simply… vanished.
Now she wondered:
Had it been taken?
Or had she given it away?
---
The chamber walls hummed as Ayra activated the signal scrambler, shielding the resistance safehouse from Mnemosyne's scanners. Kade stood nearby, checking his interface pad—barely functional this deep underground.
"I've mapped a route," he said. "Old Market rails. We ride fast and quiet. If we're right, the girl in the red coat—Zara—stored a memory shard somewhere Mnemosyne couldn't reach. And that shard may be… tethered."
"Tethered?" Ione asked.
"To you."
Ayra nodded. "A shared neural bridge. Not uncommon in bonded siblings or trauma-linked pairs. If she left behind a fragment encoded to your neural ID, it would resist deletion. It may have… mutated."
"Mutated," Ione echoed flatly.
Ayra gave the faintest shrug. "Memories are like coral. When wounded, they grow around the damage. What you find… might not be what you lost."
---
They took the rails in silence, gliding through the darkness of the city's lowest strata. These tunnels had once carried luxury trains—now they were reclaimed by roots, fungus, and rats that had adapted to the dark like gods.
Ione stared out the narrow window, the air thick with the scent of metal and moss.
Kade sat beside her, thumbing a small black device—the case from before.
"You never opened it," he said quietly.
"I'm not ready."
"You will be."
She looked at him. "How do you know?"
"Because you're asking questions. That's what they fear."
---
They arrived at an abandoned Memory Extraction Station—Station 47-Beta, stamped in rusted iron letters above the platform. Once, it had been a hub for joy-transfers: the rich paying to relive their youth, while the poor sold off birthdays, lullabies, and first dances for credits and rations.
Now, it smelled like blood and mildew.
"This is where Zara last visited before she went dark," Kade said, leading the way into the ruins. "She encoded a private memory here—illegally. There might still be traces."
Ayra scanned the space with a portable echo-reader. The walls shimmered with afterglow—pale, flickering shadows of memories too corrupted to replay. Most were just noise—screams, whispers, coughs.
But then—
"I found something," Ayra whispered.
She placed a small neural needle to the wall. A dull click.
A slow pulse filled the air.
A girl's voice—faint, panicked, breathless.
> "If you're hearing this… they're coming. Ione, don't trust—"
Static.
Then—
> "They said you were dead."
> "I saw your name on the slab, but I knew. I knew they lied."
> "You have to remember who you are. Before they do."
Ione's knees nearly buckled.
"Replay it," she breathed. "Again."
Ayra shook her head. "It's decaying. One use only. That echo's been trapped too long. Most of it's already collapsed."
Ione stood in silence, heartbeat hammering in her ears.
Zara had known.
Zara had searched.
Zara had fought.
And Ione had no memory of her face. Not truly.
"Why would they delete her?" she whispered.
"They didn't," Kade said. "They couldn't."
He looked around the ruined terminal. "This isn't deletion. This is containment."
Ayra turned sharply. "Movement. Heat signal—one lifeform. Approaching fast."
They all drew back behind old terminals.
The footsteps were slow. Precise.
A tall man entered, dressed in a pristine grey coat, his skin pale as polished glass. His eyes were matte black, like oil. Not human.
Not quite.
"Mnemosyne agent," Ayra whispered. "Archivist class. Rare."
Kade swore under his breath. "He's here for the shard."
The Archivist knelt by the wall, pulling out a memory extractor the size of a pen. He pressed it into the wall—then paused.
His head turned—slow, unnatural.
"I see you," he said.
They didn't wait.
Kade threw a flash pulse. Ayra fired her disruptor.
The Archivist moved faster than thought, dodging sideways and sending a wave of sonic force that knocked them to the ground.
Ione stumbled to her feet, her ears ringing—and came face to face with him.
He tilted his head.
"Ione Vale," he said. "Real name: Delta Echo-Three-Seven. Mnemosyne Prototype."
Her blood went cold.
"You're a myth," she whispered.
"And you are a failed project," he replied.
She lunged—
—and drove the heel of her boot into his extractor hand, sending it clattering away. He struck back, too strong, knocking her flat. But Kade tackled him before he could finish her off.
Ayra triggered a collapse charge.
The ceiling caved, cutting the Archivist off as they fled down a secondary tunnel, smoke and dust choking the air.
---
They didn't stop running until they reached the old tram shaft, lungs burning.
Ione turned to Kade. "What did he mean—Delta Echo?"
Kade looked shaken. "I was afraid of that."
He reached into his coat and handed her the black case again.
"Now," he said. "Now you need to open it."
She hesitated. Then unlatched the case.
Inside was a single memory crystal—shimmering with amber light. A private shard. Unregistered.
She pressed it to the back of her neck.
The world fractured.
---
She was in a white room.
Wires in her spine. Monitors blinking. Doctors in Mnemosyne uniforms.
Her body, smaller. Younger.
She watched herself on the table, unblinking, as one technician spoke into a recorder.
> "Delta Echo-Three-Seven. Synthetic neural clone. Emotional indexing successful. Subject has bonded with Test Companion—Zara Vale."
Zara?
> "Next stage: full memory integration. Subject will not be told she's artificial."
Ione—Echo—screamed in the memory. Thrashing. Crying.
The doctors smiled.
Then—
> "If she discovers the truth, initiate wipe protocol."
> "Memory of Zara must be erased."
---
Ione ripped the crystal away from her skin, breath ragged.
Tears rolled down her face.
Ayra said nothing. Kade lowered his head.
"I wasn't her sister," Ione whispered.
"No," Kade said softly. "You were her experiment."
---
But in the dark, something flickered.
Not despair.
Resolve.
"I'm not their property," Ione said, voice sharp. "I'm not a number."
She looked up.
"I'm going to remember everything."