CHAPTER 2 The Cost of Remembering
The first thing Kael noticed when he woke up was the silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
The unnatural kind, like the world, had stepped back and was waiting for him to move first.
His eyes opened to a cracked ceiling, stained with water and time. Dust floated lazily in the air, catching thin strips of light that slipped through broken windows. His body felt heavy, like gravity had quietly doubled overnight.
He tried to sit up.
Pain exploded behind his eyes.
Kael groaned and collapsed back onto the floor, clutching his head as if pressure alone could hold his mind together. Images flickered against the inside of his skull. Not memories. Not dreams.
Fragments.
A metal table.
A child screaming.
Blue light reflecting off glass.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
"Stop," he whispered.
The images obeyed. Slowly. Reluctantly.
Kael lay there for several minutes, breathing shallowly, waiting for the familiar ringing to fade. It always came after a vision collapse. This one felt worse than usual.
He sat up again, slower this time.
The abandoned building was empty.
No sign of Kira.
For a moment, panic stirred in his chest. Not fear of danger. Fear of absence.
The noise in his head was creeping back.
Kael stood, steadying himself against the wall. His fingers brushed against chipped concrete, grounding him in the present. He needed to leave before the visions returned to full force.
He didn't remember how long he'd been unconscious. He didn't remember how he'd gotten there.
That was becoming a pattern.
Outside, the city stretched endlessly. Neon lights buzzed above rain-soaked streets. People moved in crowds, faces buried in devices, lives rushing past each other without collision.
Kael blended in.
He always did.
He walked for hours, letting movement drown out thought. Every reflection in a window made him flinch. Every sudden sound pulled at something raw inside him.
By the time he reached his apartment, the sky was already dark.
The door locked behind him with a hollow click.
Kael leaned against it, eyes closed, letting out a slow breath.
Home was a generous word.
The room was small. Bare. Organized with obsessive precision. A mattress on the floor. A desk. A single chair. Shelves lined with notebooks stacked in perfect order.
Records.
He crossed the room and knelt beside the lowest shelf, pulling out a notebook marked with a black strip of tape.
VISION LOG — RULES
He flipped it open.
Rule One: Never use the ability twice in one hour.
Rule Two: If pain escalates, stop immediately.
Rule Three: Record everything before it disappears.
Kael swallowed.
He turned to the last entry.
The page was blank.
His stomach tightened.
He flipped backward. The previous pages were filled with his handwriting. Clean. Methodical. Dates. Observations.
The last recorded vision was three days ago.
Kael sat back on his heels.
"I used it," he muttered. "I know I did."
But there was no record. No memory of writing. No recollection of the hours that followed.
He pressed his fingers to his temples.
Something had been taken.
Sleep didn't come easily.
When it finally did, it dragged him down violently.
Kael dreamed of doors.
Hundreds of them, lining endless corridors. Some were sealed with chains. Others with symbols he didn't recognize.
All of them were closed.
He walked past them slowly, touching each handle.
None of them opened.
At the end of the corridor stood a single room.
No door.
Just open space.
Blue light pulsed inside.
Kael stepped forward.
And woke up screaming.
Morning came with a knock.
Sharp. Controlled. Intentional.
Kael froze.
No one knocked on his door.
He crossed the room silently, hand brushing the edge of his desk where a concealed blade rested. He didn't pick it up. He wasn't sure why.
Another knock.
He opened the door.
Kira stood there.
Same calm expression. Same unreadable eyes. Dressed differently now. Street clothes. No visible weapons.
She looked past him into the apartment, scanning.
"You're alive," she said.
Kael stared. "You left."
"You collapsed," she replied. "You were safer here."
"You knew where I lived."
She met his gaze without flinching. "Yes."
Kael stepped aside.
She entered without hesitation, eyes tracking exits, blind spots, shadows. A soldier's habit.
"You didn't answer my question," Kael said.
"I answered the important part."
She stopped near the shelves, eyes lingering on the notebooks.
"What are those?" she asked.
"Insurance," Kael said.
"For what?""For myself."
She studied him. Not judgmental. Curious.
"You lose time," she said.
Kael's jaw tightened. "Sometimes."
"You lose more than time."
Silence stretched between them.
"Why were you there last night?" he asked.
Kira didn't answer immediately. When she did, it was partial. "I was tracking something."
"What?"
"A ripple."
Kael frowned. "That's not an answer."
"That's all you're getting."
He almost laughed. Almost.
"You don't look surprised by any of this," he said.
"I've seen worse."
"That's not comforting."
She shrugged slightly. "It wasn't meant to be."
Kael hesitated, then asked the question burning at the edge of his mind.
"Why does my head quiet down when you're near?"
Kira stiffened. Just for a second.
"I don't know," she said.
But her voice lacked certainty.
They left together.
Kael didn't ask where they were going.
Kira didn't explain.
They moved through the city efficiently. Side streets. Crowded transit hubs. Places where no one noticed two more figures passing through.
As they walked, Kael felt it again.
Clarity.
The whispers stayed distant. The pressure remained manageable.
He hated how much that mattered.
They stopped near an underground transit entrance long since abandoned.
"This is where I leave you," Kira said.
Kael frowned. "You came all this way to disappear again?"
"For now."
"Why?"
She turned to face him fully.
"Because if I stay," she said carefully, "they'll find you faster."
Kael's pulse spiked. "Who?"
Her gaze sharpened.
"People who don't believe in locked rooms."
Before he could respond, she stepped back.
"One more thing," she added. "If you start seeing labs again… don't follow them."
"Why?"
"Because those memories don't belong to you yet."
She turned and vanished into the crowd.
Kael stood frozen.
Labs.
She knew.
That night, Kael broke his own rules.
He focused.
Not in the past.
Not on the massacre.
On Kira.
The pain came instantly.
His vision warped. Blue light surged.
Images burst forward.
A younger girl.
Military training.
Cold rooms.
Commands barked through speakers.
Then
A hallway.
A door opening.
A child with glowing blue eyes.
The image shattered violently.
Kael collapsed, gasping, blood trickling from his nose.
He laughed weakly.
"Too late," he whispered.
Far below the city, in a chamber buried beneath layers of security, screens lit up.
Data spiked.
An alert flashed.
ANOMALY SYNCHRONIZATION DETECTED
A figure stepped out of the shadows.
"Confirmed?" he asked.
"Yes," a voice replied. "The asset is resonating."
The man smiled.
"Good," he said. "Phase One is progressing."