Darkness wasn't silent. It whispered.
At first, it was a low hum, a vibration at the base of her skull too quiet to be words, too close to ignore. Then came the sound of dripping. Slow, deliberate. Water hitting metal. Each drop carried the weight of time.
Maya stirred. Cold air kissed her skin as her cheek pressed against the dusty floor. The scent of damp wood and blood floated faintly around her, the iron tang of life interrupted. Somewhere above, the ceiling creaked like an old man breathing.
Her body felt foreign, a collection of borrowed pain.
"Maya."
His voice broke through the dark. Rowan. Low, rough, unsteady.
She forced her eyes open. The room came into focus in trembling fragments, shadows, the glint of broken glass, the ghostly sway of the bulb overhead.
"Maya, can you hear me?"
He was kneeling beside her, one hand hovering near her shoulder but not quite touching. His eyes were ringed with exhaustion, his jaw shadowed in stubble, a bruise darkening along his temple.
"What happened?" she whispered. Her throat ached, her voice sandpaper.
"You hit your head. We're still in the cabin."
She tried to move; her muscles protested. "How long?"
He hesitated, eyes darting to the cracked window. "Hours. Maybe more."
The bulb above flickered weakly, light sliding across his face in uneven waves showing, hiding, showing again. His expression looked too controlled to be calm.
Then memory surged back:
The figure outside.
The voice whispers "Time to remember."
The sound of glass breaking.
Her heart thudded. "The recorder," she said, sitting up too quickly. "Where is it?"
Rowan's silence told her everything before his words did.
"Gone," he said.
She blinked, waiting for him to take it back. "Gone?"
"I searched everywhere, the car, the floor, even outside. It's not here."
Her voice trembled. "Then she has it."
He didn't move, didn't speak, didn't need to. The stillness was confirmation enough.
"She's out there, Rowan," Maya said, her pulse drumming at her temples. "And she wants me."
He caught her wrist as she stood, his grip firm but not cruel. "You need to breathe."
"Don't tell me to breathe," she snapped, jerking free. "You should've destroyed it the night we found it."
His tone sharpened. "And would you have let me?"
Her eyes met his. The question hit harder than she expected. "I"
"Yes," he said quietly. "You would've stopped me."
"Don't."
"You wanted to hear her again."
"Rowan."
"You needed to."
Her voice cracked. "Stop it."
"She said your name. She made you feel"
"Enough!"
The word cut through the room, scattering the quiet into sharp edges.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The bulb buzzed faintly, filling the air with its fragile hum.
Maya rose on shaking legs. The blanket slid off her lap and pooled at her feet. "You think I wanted this?"
"I think you want answers."
"Then give me one," she said. "What happens if she finds me before we find her?"
Rowan rubbed the back of his neck, his voice low. "Then she completes the loop."
"The loop?"
"She becomes what she was built to mirror."
Her voice faltered. "Which is?"
"You."
Something inside her went cold. "You mean she'll replace me."
He didn't answer.
"Rowan," she whispered. "You mean she'll erase me."
"Not erase," he said softly. "Rewrite."
The room seemed to contract. The sound of dripping water grew louder.
"So that's why you came for me," she said slowly. "You didn't want me. You wanted to control her."
"That's not true."
"Then tell me why the man who ruined her thinks he can save me."
His voice cracked. "Because I couldn't save her, Maya. And I'm not going to lose you too."
She blinked hard. "You don't even know me."
He took a step forward. "Don't I?"
"No."
"I've listened to your voice for months," he said, the words trembling out of him. "I know the way you inhale before you lie. The way you say fine when you mean don't ask. The way you go silent when you're breaking."
She shook her head. "That's not knowing someone. That's surveillance."
"It's survival," he murmured.
Her throat tightened. "Is that what this is to you?"
He didn't answer. The silence between them was thick enough to feel.
She could hear his heartbeat or maybe it was hers, echoing.
"Why does it feel like we've had this conversation before?" she asked.
He looked at her, eyes haunted. "Because maybe we have."
Her breath caught. "What do you mean?"
"Amelia used to ask me the same thing."
Her chest was constricted. "Don't."
"She said it after the second simulation. Right before she"
"I said don't."
He stopped.
They stood in stillness, fragile, heavy, and close.
Then a whisper came from the corner.
"You left me behind."
Maya froze. "Rowan."
He turned toward the sound.
"You said she'd be safe."
Her breath hitched. "That's my voice."
His face went pale. "It's the radio."
"There's no radio."
He looked around the room, eyes darting to every shadow.
The whisper came again, clearer, crawling under the skin.
"You said she wouldn't remember."
Maya backed into the wall, trembling. "Rowan, what's happening to me?"
"It's a residual auditory imprint," he said automatically, clinging to logic.
"Say it in English."
"It means she's found a way to speak through you."
Maya shook her head. "No."
"She's syncing."
"No."
He took a step toward her. "Maya"
"You never listen," the voice said, right behind her ear.
She spun, eyes wide. Nothing there.
Her chest heaved. Rowan reached for her; she pulled away.
"Don't touch me."
"Maya."
"She's inside me!"
He didn't deny it. "I know."
Her voice trembled. "You know?"
"I saw it happen to Amelia."
Her eyes filled with tears. "Then why didn't you warn me?"
"I thought I could stop it."
"Liar."
"You thought you could fix your guilt through me," she said, shaking.
He didn't speak.
Her voice broke. "What happens now?"
"We go find Voss," he said. "He's the only one who can sever the connection."
"And if we don't?"
"Then she'll take over."
She let out a laugh, sharp, splintered, almost painful "So she replaces me, and I become the echo?"
His silence answered her.
"You built a ghost," she whispered, "and now you can't tell which one of us is real."
He stepped closer, voice low. "I know exactly which one is real."
"Prove it."
For a heartbeat, neither of them breathed.
Then he kissed her.
It wasn't gentle. It was survival desperation wrapped in heat. Her hands clutched at his shirt; the world disappeared into pulse and breath.
When they broke apart, her voice trembled. "Did that help you decide?"
He rested his forehead against hers. "No," he said. "It made it worse."
Lightning split the sky outside, white and merciless.
Then the whisper again.
"He always chooses the echo."
Maya's body went rigid.
Rowan's eyes widened. "Maya?"
She clutched her head. "She's speaking through me."
Her voice fractured.
"He'll never save you."
Her lips moved, but it wasn't her.
Rowan stepped back. "Stop. Please stop."
"He killed me once. He'll do it again."
"Shut up!"
"He doesn't love you."
"Stop!"
The bulb overhead burst. Glass fell like rain.
Rowan lunged, catching her as her body convulsed. Her eyes stared blankly past him, her voice caught between worlds.
He whispered her name until the trembling stopped.
"Maya?"
Her lips parted. "Rowan?"
"I'm here."
"What happened?"
"You fainted."
"No," she said, trembling. "She spoke."
"I know."
The rain outside stopped. The quiet pressed close.
Maya turned her head toward the window and froze.
Outside, a figure stood still, blurred by the glass.
Female. Familiar.
Her voice was barely breathing. "Amelia."
Rowan's throat tightened. "No."
The figure raised her palm, almost tender.
Then, in a voice that came from everywhere and nowhere
"Time to remember."
The light flickered twice. Then everything went dark.