The water treatment plant had been decommissioned twelve years ago.
Officially, it was shut down for environmental violations. But Jack remembered the case that accompanied the closure—three workers who died on site under "unknown psychological stress," their final audio logs a mix of incoherent screaming and cryptic references to birds, mirrors, and drowning in dry rooms.
It had always smelled like Raven Circle work.
Now, standing in front of the rusted gates again, Jack could almost feel the memories hanging in the air—thick, heavy, watching.
Kael checked the perimeter while Lena crouched by the access panel, jamming a device the size of a keychain into the old city console.
"Electric grid's been rerouted," she said. "This isn't just running off backup. They built a full system underneath. Reactor-grade. Someone's funding them hard."
"They always were well-connected," Kael muttered.
Ezra stood behind them, arms crossed. "What are we expecting inside?"
Jack didn't answer at first. He watched the shadows moving across the rooftop through the broken skylight. Birds. Dozens of them. Perched. Silent. Ravens.
"They're running simulations in there," Jack said. "Echo tests. Memory construction. That's how they stabilized Rhea. And maybe others."
Kael shifted his grip on his rifle. "And we're just walking into the echo chamber?"
"We're not walking in," Jack said. "We're shutting it down."
Lena pulled the last cord from the junction box and stepped back. The door buzzed open—ancient hydraulics struggling against time.
Inside, it was cold.
Too cold.
Their breath fogged in the air. Condensation rolled down walls that hadn't seen clean water in over a decade. The hallway beyond had been gutted and rebuilt—steel reinforcements welded into old concrete, cables running like veins along the ceiling.
They descended in silence.
Four flights down.
Then five.
Finally, they reached the chamber: a vast circular room with dozens of chair-like pods arranged in concentric rings, wires spiraling upward toward a central node.
The Echo Core.
It pulsed.
A slow, rhythmic glow—almost like breathing.
Lena swallowed. "We're inside a memory stabilizer."
Jack scanned the room.
The pods were occupied.
Not all.
But some.
Young women. Middle-aged. All unconscious. Some murmuring. Some twitching. One crying silently with her eyes closed.
Each one wore a band across their temples: the Raven sigil etched over an exposed neural interface.
Ezra cursed under his breath. "How many Elaras did they try to make?"
Kael stepped closer to a pod. "These aren't prototypes," he said. "These are vessels."
Jack nodded. "They're recording surfaces. Hosting memory overlays. Each one holds a different personality map."
Lena moved toward the control station. "There's a live stream running. Audio and visual. Looping fragments. Rooftops. Cafés. Blood on tiles. Music. Him."
Jack looked at the nearest screen.
It showed him.
Not from the outside.
From inside the memory.
Someone—one of the vessels—was dreaming about him. Arguing with him. Holding his hand. Dying in his arms.
He backed away.
"They're not just using Elara's memories," Lena whispered. "They're weaponizing yours."
Kael moved toward the central core. "We pull the power. Everything stops."
Lena grabbed his arm. "No. If they're tethered too deeply, you fry their minds. You kill all of them."
"And what's the alternative?" Kael snapped.
Jack stepped between them.
"I go in."
Lena stared at him. "Into the core?"
Jack nodded. "Sync into one of the channels. Use my own neural frequency to anchor a route in. Find Elara. The real one. Wake her. And get out."
"That's insane," Kael said.
"It's the only way," Jack replied.
Ezra tossed him a pulse-injector. "You'll need a failsafe. This'll knock you out if you start to spiral."
Jack looked at Lena. "Can you guide me?"
"I'll stay linked," she said. "You'll be alone inside, but I'll watch your vitals."
Kael shook his head. "If you die in there—"
"Then I finally get some peace," Jack said.
He sat in the central chair.
The pod closed around him like a slow fist.
Darkness.
Then sound.
He was on the rooftop again.
The first night.
Elara's voice: "You don't have to protect me."
His voice: "You don't make it easy."
But something was wrong.
The air shimmered.
The sky blinked.
And she changed.
Elara's face flickered—Rhea's mouth. Then Amina's eyes. Then someone else entirely.
The memory collapsed.
He fell.
Woke in another place.
The jazz bar.
Only this time, it was empty.
And Rhea stood behind the bar.
Her voice: "You should have let me become her."
He tried to move.
He couldn't.
She stepped closer.
"You loved her because she was fragile. But you needed someone who could survive you."
She touched his chest.
His heartbeat slowed.
"You didn't lose her, Jack. You abandoned her."
The room darkened.
Her face shifted again.
And then he heard a whisper.
Not Rhea.
Not Amina.
The real one.
"I'm here."
He turned.
A hallway.
Flooded with water.
At the far end—Elara.
Eyes wide. Pale. Trembling.
Alive.
She was still herself.
But fading.
Back in the real world, Lena gasped.
"Jack's found her," she said. "He's anchored."
Kael gripped his rifle. "And the others?"
Lena looked up.
Monitors were flashing red.
"The system knows."
Sirens began to blare.
The Echo Core lit up—pulsing faster.
Kael stepped forward.
"Get ready," he said.
Ezra cocked his weapon.
"Here comes the rewrite."