"To remember is to lie. To lie beautifully is to live."
It began not with a scream.
It began with a sentence—half-written, half-erased—hanging in the breathless air of the Echo-Silts like a question that had outlived its questioner.
The realm they had descended into pulsed with the memory of language, but not its structure. Every surface flickered with broken syntax. Walls breathed. Floors sighed. The sky wept punctuation.
Darius felt it first—a shift in the current of his thought, as if his past were a garment being stitched inside-out. Kaela walked beside him, humming softly, but the melody changed each time he blinked. Celestia's hand was in his, yet her scent no longer triggered the memory of their first union. Instead, it conjured a battlefield. A betrayal. A wound.
Then came the voices.
Not external, but
