The night air is dense with mist, carrying the sharp scent of wet concrete and distant sirens that fade like ghostly echoes through the city's veins. Mara and I slip through narrow alleyways, our footsteps muffled by the soaked earth beneath broken streetlights. Every shadow seems alive—watching, waiting.
We reach the shelter—an unassuming building whose crumbling facade barely conceals the secrets within. I push open the heavy door, and a stale wave of damp wood and mildew hits us. Mara retreats inside, shivering despite a thin jacket and exhaustion clinging to her.
I set my pack down and flick on the lone lamp, its dim glow flickering against peeling paint and cracked walls. Dust dances in the sickly yellow light, settling around us like a reminder of forgotten time.
Mara sinks onto a threadbare sofa, pulling her knees tight. Her eyes shine with wet exhaustion, the fight draining from her body but not from her spirit. "I'm scared," she whispers. "Scared that I'm not who I think I am... that I'm just an echo."
The words slice through me with a blunt edge. I crouch beside her, catching her gaze. "You're more than that. And if you're not—then we'll find out why. Together."
She nods, biting her lip, fighting the fear. I pull out the battered laptop and begin transferring files from the flash drive—fingers trembling slightly as encrypted data floods onto the screen. Lines of corrupted code unfold into videos, voice logs, and documents—the remnants of a project that should have died long ago.
The more we uncover, the heavier the truth presses. Vale Dynamics didn't destroy Eidolon—they hid it. They replicated people, personalities, memories—created echoes meant to replace originals once deemed inconvenient.
An audio file begins to play—a whisper: "Find the original. Erase the echo." The voice resembles Mara's own, haunting and unresolved.
Tears glisten on her cheeks. "That's me... and not me."
I close the laptop, feeling the weight of years and lies. "We're hunted—by people who fear the truth more than anything."
From outside, footsteps approach. The hunt tightens.
"Get ready," I say, voice low and urgent. "We leave now."
Rain greets us, a curtain of cold water washing away what little sanctuary we had. We sprint through labyrinthine streets, the storm's cacophony masking the pounding kits of danger behind us.
Mara stumbles, breath ragged, but I pull her close, matching my stride to hers. "Hold on," I whisper.
Her hand locks in mine—the only certainty in a world unraveling.
The city swallows us, but not before a final glance—an echo of hope forged in shared fear and fragile love.