Vestige didn't rise like a city.
It emerged — from smog and shimmer, flickering in and out like a poorly-rendered dream.
The gates weren't real gates.
Just the broken ribcage of an old stadium, wrapped in neural signage.
"This place is sick," Lira muttered, lowering her hood.
"More than sick," Cael replied. "It's in feedback."
"How do you know?"
He pointed to a billboard overhead.
It was advertising an event… from tomorrow.
Inside, the streets moved in slow pulses — like film frames trying to catch up.
A dog barked in reverse.
A child counted upward from minus two.
And across every surface, old Lock warning sigils blinked and shifted.
Not threatening.
Confused.
The locals were quiet.
All of them.
Like they were mid-sentence but couldn't find the end of the thought.
They didn't stare at Cael.
They glanced.
Like they'd already glanced before.
Lira stayed close.
"You sure the first Lock's beneath this place?"
"It's where the signal pulls. Hard."
"Let's find a stable point to—"
"Cael."
The voice didn't belong to her.
A woman stood at the corner.
Sharp coat. Scar across one eye. Holding an empty Lock containment unit like a purse.
She stared at him.
Eyes cold.
Recognition clear.
"I remember you."
Cael stepped back.
"We've never met."
"No," she said. "But I killed you. Last time."
"Last time?"
"When the cycle ran right."
She walked toward him.
Not hostile.
Just... certain.
"You bled out on 7th Avenue, twenty minutes from now."
"I dragged your body to a node and watched it refuse to forget you."
"That's why you're back."
"You're always back."
Lira raised her weapon.
"You're glitched."
"We all are."
"You shouldn't trust memory here."
"I don't," the woman said.
"I trust repetition."
Behind her, the street shimmered.
And for a moment — just a flicker — Cael saw it.
A version of himself.
Lying on the concrete.
Chest torn open.
Eyes glassed.
Dead.
The vision vanished.
And the Keymark on his arm pulsed once.
"Anchor-recognition anomaly: LOOP THREAD DETECTED."
"You are in a place that knows your end."
End of Chapter 21: Vestige Doesn't Forget