Kael stepped through the door.
It closed behind him.
No sound. No echo.
Just the pressure of something ancient wrapping around him like static air.
He didn't know if he was still underground.
Or if this was another memory trap.
But it felt different.
This wasn't built to scare him.
It was built to remember.
The room was wide. Circular.
Walls of glass surrounded him, but nothing was reflected in them. No light source, but he could see everything.
At the center stood a table.
A round console, untouched by time. Burnt, scratched… but still working.
He moved toward it.
And it activated before he could touch it.
The floor around him changed—became light.
And then they appeared.
Five figures.
Standing where he stood now.
Not holograms. Not echoes. Full, reconstructed memories.
Each wore a different suit—heavier than his. Crude. Early builds.
Their helmets were off.
They were young.
Human.
And they were terrified.
"The Frame doesn't shut off," one said. "I haven't slept in two days."
"It's rewriting me," another whispered. "I don't feel like myself anymore."
"Did anyone tell us what we're actually syncing to?"
The audio glitched.
Then the fifth spoke.
A woman. Mid-twenties. Clear eyes. Steady voice.
"The system never needed us to win. Just to hold the signal."
Kael watched them argue, panic, fade.
Then the light cut out.
Silence.
Until another screen lit up on the wall.
This one didn't show people.
It showed code. Charts. Neural patterns.
Five subject tags.
One had been marked: FAILED_STABILITY.
Another: REDEEM_REBOOT.
And the fifth—hers—was listed as: OBELISK_ANCHOR.
Kael's eyes locked onto the second one.
"REDEEM_REBOOT."
His core burned.
Then a voice.
Not like before.
This one was recorded.
"If you're seeing this… the anchor is gone. The system's branching without control."
"Obelisk needs a new sync point."
"Not stronger. Just willing."
"We called it REDEEM."
"And it didn't work the first time."
Kael backed away slowly, breathing sharp.
He had questions—but the room was already fading.
Not collapsing.
Just letting go.
The console dimmed.
And the only thing left was silence.
As he turned to leave, the glass walls glitched once more.
And his own reflection stared back at him.
Except the eyes…
Weren't his.
Not anymore.