I woke to the sound of my own breathing—shallow, uneven, wrong.
It was dark. Not pitch-black, but layered with a low red glow that pulsed from unseen sources in the walls. The air smelled of ozone and metal, like the inside of a dying server room. The floor beneath me was smooth and cold.
Isolation Protocol Alpha.
The Ministry's final cage. Where dangerous minds went to disappear.
I sat up slowly. My head throbbed. The sting from Veras's injection still burned at the base of my neck. A smart-toxin, probably. Something to sedate the memory ghost—or maybe just me.
The cell was hexagonal, made entirely of opaque glass and steel. No seams. No door. Just one transparent panel facing another cell a few meters away.
Someone was in it.
At first, I thought they were unconscious. Then the figure stirred, sluggish and twitching like a corrupted simulation. They pressed both hands against the glass and leaned close.
A man—barely older than me, with shaved hair and skin marbled with faint silver veins. His eyes glowed faintly in the red light.
He grinned when he saw me move.
"Well, look who woke up," he said. His voice echoed through the chamber via unseen speakers. "Thought they'd fry you clean."
I stayed silent.
"New blood," he said. "You've got that look. Like your head's not all yours anymore."
"Who are you?" I asked hoarsely.
"Subject 3C," he replied. "But that's just their name for me. You can call me Ash."
His smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes.
I stood slowly. My legs were shaky, but functional. "What is this place?"
Ash leaned his forehead against the glass. "They call it Echo Sector. Where they put the ones that echo back."
I frowned. "Echo what?"
"Voices," he said. "Fragments. Ghosts. Same as you, yeah?"
I felt a chill crawl up my spine.
"You've got her in you, don't you?" he whispered. "The girl in the dark. I see her sometimes. When I sleep. When I blink."
He tapped his temple.
"She talks. In lights. In shapes. She doesn't want to be forgotten."
"You've seen her?" I asked, stepping closer.
Ash nodded. "Bits of her. Pieces. They come in flashes. But they don't like it when I listen."
"Who doesn't?"
He pointed upward.
"The Watchers. The black glass. They're always recording."
I looked around. No cameras. No visible tech.
But I felt it too. The presence. The hum of buried surveillance embedded in the walls. Watching, listening, judging.
"They keep us in here to study the infection," Ash continued. "They want to see how far it spreads. How long we last before we fracture."
I remembered what Dr. Korr said.
Thirty-two others. All dead.
"How long have you been here?" I asked.
Ash laughed softly. "Time's not real in here. But I was awake when Subject Delta-Seven was still breathing."
My heart stilled. "You knew her?"
"I heard her," he said. "She didn't talk with words. She used light. Code. It burrowed into me like music made of math."
He smiled faintly. "And then she vanished."
"No," I said. "She didn't vanish. She changed form. She's… still in me."
Ash's eyes narrowed.
"Then she chose you."
A low rumble vibrated through the walls. The lights flickered once, then steadied.
"System reboot," Ash said. "They do that when one of us gets too close to something."
Then the humming in my head returned—low, steady, like a tuning fork struck just behind my eyes.
> "He's not like the others."
The voice was hers.
Faint, but clearer than before.
Ash flinched. "Did you hear that?"
I nodded. "She's getting stronger."
"Good," Ash whispered. "Then maybe we can still burn this place down."
He reached into the shadows of his cell and pulled out a shard of mirrorglass—slim, polished, clearly forbidden.
"They think I'm broken," he said. "But broken minds hide the best secrets."
He pressed the shard against his arm. The surface rippled like water, revealing a flickering schematic—blue lines, names, nodes.
It was a map.
"They call it the Thread," Ash said. "It's the memory network buried under the Archive Stream. Where she lives now. Where all the others went."
He pointed to a blinking node labeled 3C-GATE.
"I've found a backdoor," he whispered. "But I can't enter it alone."
I stared at the map. The node pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat.
"She left a key in you," he said. "Didn't she?"
I touched the back of my neck—where Veras had injected me.
There was something there.
Not just pain.
Code.
Encrypted. Buried deep. Like a lock waiting to be opened.
"They'll purge us if they find out," I said.
Ash laughed. "They already plan to. But if we connect—if we link—we can enter the Thread together."
"And find her?" I asked.
Ash looked dead serious. "And maybe free her. Or find out what she really is."
Silence fell.
Then the lights in both cells surged bright.
An automated voice crackled from above.
> "Subject 7A: Conscious alignment anomaly detected. Initiating mental stability scan."
Ash's grin vanished. He stepped back, sliding the shard behind his back.
"They're onto us," he said. "They'll try to isolate you again. Wipe the echoes."
"What do I do?"
He locked eyes with me.
"Remember. When they come for you… remember the girl in the light."
The walls began to shimmer—transparent panels becoming mirrors, hiding Ash from view. My cell sealed itself in silence.
And the hum in my mind grew louder.
> "I was buried… but you are still breathing."
The ghost wasn't hiding anymore.
She was waiting.