The darkness was the first thing he knew.
Thick, impenetrable darkness coiled around his fragmented consciousness like the walls of a cell with no door. No sound but the thudding of his heartbeat and the faint hiss of his breath, echoing in a confined, cold, damp space.
He opened his eyes, but the darkness did not dissipate. Moments passed before his eyes began to adjust, and the blackness turned to shifting shadows, revealing a faint outline of his surroundings.
Stone walls. Muddy ground. A low ceiling dripping with moisture. A cell.
He tried to rise but discovered his body was as heavy as shattered marble. He moved with difficulty, feeling his limbs. No visible wounds, yet a strange numbness coursed through him, as if someone had replaced his blood with a thick, frozen liquid.
"Where am I?" he whispered to himself, startled by his own voice. It was hoarse, unfamiliar, as though he hadn't used it in ages.
Then came the answer, though not from his lips.
[In the place where you were forgotten, where the world discards what it no longer wishes to remember.]
He jolted in fear, looking around wildly. No one. The voice was in his head. Deep, calm, with an eerie resonance, as though it came from the depths of an ancient well or a distant, forgotten time.
"Who are you?" he asked into the darkness, feeling a fleeting moment of insanity. Was he speaking to himself?
[Wrong question. The right question is: who are we?]
He clutched his head, pain flaring behind his eyes. Shattered images, like fragments of broken glass, began to flicker in his mind. Blurred faces. Places he'd never been. Names that meant nothing.
Then, suddenly, he realized.
"I don't remember my name."
It was the first shocking truth, though he didn't yet know it would be the least of the truths he'd face. He searched his memory and found it a vast void, blank as an untouched page, save for faint flashes, like the ghosts of long-past events.
[Of course you don't remember. They don't want you to remember. Forgetting is their favorite punishment.]
"Who are they? Who are you talking about? And who are you?"
A faint laugh echoed in his mind.
[I am what's left of you after you forgot everything. I am the parasite of eternity that dwells within you—or perhaps, you are the parasite inhabiting my body.]
He struggled to his feet, leaning against the cold wall. A wave of dizziness hit him momentarily, but he steadied himself. He touched his face, his hair, his neck, as if familiarizing himself with his own body for the first time.
"Am I... dead?"
[Worse. You are forgotten. And this is the Shadow Cells, where the forgotten are imprisoned.]
He tried to process what he was hearing, though his thoughts were muddled. A cell? Forgotten? Parasite? He tried to recall the last thing... anything.
Feeling along the walls in the darkness, he searched for a door until his hand found a cold gap. He pushed it gently, and it creaked open, revealing a narrow passage dimly lit by a pale light.
He had no choice but to move forward.
[Yes, that's what we've always wanted. Freedom.]
"We? Who exactly are we?"
[You'll know when you remember. Or rather, when you steal the memories.]
He froze in place for a moment. "Steal memories?"
[Every memory you've stolen has given you new strength. And every strength you've gained has brought me closer to life... while taking pieces of you.]
He walked slowly through the narrow passage, his mind spinning with countless questions. After several steps, the passage widened into a small, dimly lit chamber, illuminated by faint blue torches mounted on the walls.
And there, he saw the first human.
A guard dressed in pristine white, standing with his back to him. On his head, an oddly shaped helmet concealed his features. On his chest, a badge bore a simple symbol: a circle with an eye at its center.
[A Keeper. One of the servants of the Covenant of Oblivion.]
He instinctively took a step back, but his foot struck a small stone, producing a faint sound.
The guard turned slowly, and where his face should have been, there was a smooth, white mask devoid of features, save for a thin slit for the eyes.
"Awake," the guard said in a dry, emotionless voice. "Unauthorized. Must erase."
The guard raised his hand, and circles of white light began to form in the air.
[Now. Touch him. Take his memories before he erases you.]
He didn't know what he was doing, but survival drove him forward. He grabbed the guard's arm, and suddenly, something strange happened.
He felt heat coursing from his fingers as the guard's words froze in his throat. Like a river flowing backward, images, sounds, and sensations began pouring into him. Visual liquids streaming from the guard into his own mind.
Faces of people he'd never seen. Words in a language he'd never heard. Skills he'd never learned. Everything flowed into him, filling part of the vast emptiness in his memory.
When he finally released him, the guard collapsed to the ground, his eyes vacant, his mouth open in a silent scream.
As he stood there, stunned and trembling from what he had done, he felt something forming in his hand. He looked down to find a blade, semi-transparent, glowing with a faint blue hue, as though forged from frozen light.
[The Memory Blade. The first of your gifts from the memories of others.]
He stared at the strange blade in his hand, then at the guard lying before him like a broken doll.
"What have I done to him?"
[What they did to you and billions of others. You stole his memories.]
As he stood there, the distant sound of an alarm began to rise, and red lights flickered at the end of the passage.
"They've discovered me."
[Yes, and this is only the beginning, Cairn.]
He shivered for a moment. "Cairn? Is that my name?"
[It's a name we choose now, from one of the memories you stole. It means 'The Forgotten Avenger' in a language called Eridian.]
He knelt beside the guard and took his identification card and keys with confident movements, as if he had done this thousands of times before. New skills, the guard's memories.
As the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, Cairn chose his path and ran, carrying with him the Memory Blade and the first identity he had stolen.
The hunters were coming. The chase had begun.