Dawn waited for what felt like a long time.Then, all at once, he was elsewhere.
A dim, circular chamber—lit only by the soft pulse of silver threads—unfolded around him. He was seated in a chair of cold obsidian. Around him, the others from his group. Their chairs formed a perfect ring. None had been there a moment ago, and yet all looked just as disoriented as he was.
From the shadows above, a voice echoed."You may not speak. You shall relive a memory… one belonging to another."
Dawn's eyes narrowed.'An echo? No... perhaps something different.'
He looked down. A black lining ran from his chest to the center of the circle. It hummed faintly, vibrating with a rhythm that wasn't his. Heartbeat? Emotion?
"Prepare yourself. It will begin shortly."
Then the world bled away.
***
The first thing he saw was the sky.
A swollen, blood-red moon hung overhead, casting warped shadows through barred windows. He was in a jail cell—no, strapped inside it. Chains bit into his arms and legs. His body stung. Countless cuts and bruises—some fresh, others scarred over.
And through it all, a deep, aching sorrow hummed in his chest.'Why am I... so sad?'
The door creaked open.
A man stepped in—older, cloaked in an academy professor's coat. Dawn's breath caught.Professor Scowen.
But there was no warmth in the man's eyes. Only contempt."███████... Still holding on, huh? You'll break soon enough. Even if you survive, you'll be a mutant. Your family will be disgraced."
Pain flared—not physical, but emotional.Dawn's vision blurred as tears threatened, unbidden.
"Are you crying?"Scowen leaned close, his eyes bulging, breath sharp with rot."You don't deserve those tears. Your bloodline's sins go back centuries."
His hands wrapped around Dawn's neck."Everything you are is a stain. We've suffered long enough under your family's name."
The anger in the memory surged—Dawn could feel it, bubbling just beneath the surface. His voice—no, the voice of the one whose memory this was—spoke involuntarily:"You're just a coward, using me to hurt people you're too scared to face directly."
Scowen's eyes twitched. Then he pulled away, pacing."Not yet. No, no. You'll live. They need to see what's left of you. That's the real punishment."
And so it went on.For hours—days?—Dawn was subjected to waves of anguish, helplessness, and fury. Researchers came and went. Injecting blue fluids. Carving new wounds. Stripping away humanity with every visit.
The world was gray, but the emotions were vivid—too vivid.
Then something shifted.One chain—his right—was loose.
A syringe lay unattended on a nearby desk, its liquid a luminous blue. The feelings rising within him were crystal clear now: hesitation. Regret. But underneath it all—resolve.
'They're planning to die. To protect their family's name… even now?''Is this what loyalty feels like? Would I ever go this far for someone else?'
As the door shut, the chain slipped free. Dawn's borrowed hand grabbed the syringe—and without pause, drove it into his own neck.
And then, pain.Real, visceral, bone-shattering pain. Organs twisted. Muscles tore. Skin bulged with shifting color.
The chains shattered. His body grew monstrous. The world distorted—colors and sound stretched unnaturally. Something inside him screamed, louder than anything he'd ever heard.
'The rage… it's swallowing me—'
Professor Scowen returned.The moment he saw the broken restraints and empty syringe, his face twisted."No! You... that wasn't meant for you! You ruined everything!"
No mask. No weapon. Only hatred.Scowen charged.
A massive, mutated fist met him mid-run.His body crumpled on impact. Skull crushed. Thrown against the wall like a sack of broken meat.
Dawn felt... nothing.No satisfaction. No relief.Only fire. Only hate.And it kept building.
Room by room, he slaughtered everyone. Researchers. Guards. Patients. Even children. He was no longer himself—just a storm of vengeance in a dying husk of flesh.
The feelings were still not his.But somehow... the fury was.'Why does it feel so good to hate?'
At the end of the rampage, standing in blood up to his knees, his vision began to fade.The last thing he saw... was a thread—frayed and twitching—soaked in red.
Then, darkness.
***
Dawn awoke now.He still had that hatred in his heart, lingering.It was weird being able to experience such fierce emotions from another's perspective.
Dawn looked around. The whole group shook—battered, even.'Maybe we all went through each other's worst memories?'
An echo appeared in front of Dawn.
"You will now place the echo of the person who had this memory on their chair. You have a minute. Do not sit back down until I say so," the voice said.
Dawn immediately stood up.'It can only be her… the blood moon had to have been a sign of her. She also seems pretty prideful for her family. The end of the memory also had a red thread at the end—it had to have been the power of her bloodline…'
Dawn walked over to the chair that Vyra was initially sitting on.'What happens if I get it wrong?'
Dawn placed it on her chair and returned back to his.
He looked around, and it seemed that everybody placed their echoes in the chairs and were now sitting in front of them.
"You may now sit."
As Dawn sat, he relived his memory of his darkness once again. It merely flashed through his head.
Dawn heard the screams behind him as his memories faded.'Numa and Nareth… it seems they weren't as lucky.'
Dawn looked behind him.Numa was burning. Her actual skin didn't feel physically affected, but it must have hurt so much.
Nareth suddenly appeared to be getting cut from nowhere. There were no scars on his body, but his clothes were getting disintegrated from the cuts, and his grunts got louder and louder.
"Perception. Your perceptions of these two caused them to carry false memories. Now they must hold no false truths and carry it all together. Numa and Nareth will be no more. They shall now be one," the voice said.
Numa and Nareth didn't seem to know what was going on, still burdened by the echoes placed upon them.
Dawn's face was frozen. He didn't seem to believe what was appearing before him.
Dawn gripped his heart and looked down.'Would I be merged with them as well if someone misplaced my echo?'
Dawn was suddenly feeling glad that he was unique… that his darkness was recognizable—well, to someone, at least.
"You have one final trial before reaching the throne room."