Adrian's pov
Rhea fell asleep against me that night.
Her body curled toward mine like instinct.
And when I watched her sleep—hair tangled, lips slightly parted, bruises catching moonlight—
I realized something terrible.
Something pure.
> "I don't want revenge anymore," I whispered.
> "I just want you."
But wanting something didn't make it safe.
Not in our world.
Not when the ghosts started waking.
Adrian's pov
Freedom didn't taste like I thought it would.
It wasn't open skies or long nights without fear.
It was damp walls.
Old blood.
And the constant ache of a knife that still felt warm in my hand.
Rhea limped beside me.
We moved through the maintenance tunnels beneath the lab—our last chance of getting out without being seen. Without being retrieved.
> "We're almost there," I said, though I didn't know if it was true.
She didn't respond.
Her breathing was shallow.
Each step left a drop of blood behind.
And still, she kept walking.
Like stopping would mean being pulled back into the tank.
---
Rhea's pov
I didn't remember falling.
But I woke with Adrian's arms around me.
His hoodie zipped over my chest. His hands trembling against my waist.
> "You're burning up," he whispered.
He touched my forehead. Swore under his breath.
I knew what that meant.
The wound was infected.
The tracker wasn't just hardware.
It was chemical. Fused into my bloodstream. Removing it came with a cost.
> "Keep going," I said. "Even if I slow you down."
> "I'm not leaving you," he said instantly.
His eyes darkened.
And that was the scariest part.
Because I knew he meant it.
Even if it killed us both.
---
Meanwhile: Deep Below
The girl in the other tank woke up.
Not Rhea.
Not quite.
She looked like her.
Moved like her.
But when she opened her eyes, they were glassy. Hollow.
Her name flickered on the screen above her:
> SUBJECT: ECHO-001
> STATUS: INACTIVE
Until now.
A soft ping echoed.
The technician turned.
"Sir. She's waking up."
The Director leaned in.
> "Which one?"
> "The second."
> "Rhea's replacement?"
The tech nodded.
"Tracking indicates she's responding to memory bleed. Something's triggering cross-subject recall."
The Director's smile was slow.
> "Then send her after them."
> "Let's see what happens when he has to choose between the original…"
> "And the perfected version."
Adrian's pov
Rhea was slipping in and out of consciousness.
I carried her now.
She felt lighter than I remembered.
Too light.
> "Almost there," I muttered, as we reached the end of the tunnel.
Rust-streaked stairs led up into moonlight.
An access hatch. Real air. Real sky.
We were going to make it.
I climbed the stairs.
Turned the handle.
Pushed.
And froze.
Because standing just outside the hatch—
Wearing the same gloves, the same uniform, the same cold, unreadable face—
Was her.
Not Rhea.
But someone with her face.
And behind her—
Dozens of shadows.
---
Rhea's pov
I heard his breath catch.
Forced my eyes open.
Looked past his shoulder.
And knew.
> They'd sent her.
The version they wanted him to choose.
The version without the blood. Without the fire. Without me.
She tilted her head.
Stared at me like I was the broken one.
Then she spoke.
> "Return. Or he dies."
---
Adrian's pov
I didn't hesitate.
I pulled Rhea closer.
And looked the other one in the eye.
> "Then I guess I die".
Adrian
Freedom didn't taste like I thought it would.
It wasn't open skies or long nights without fear.
It was damp walls.
Old blood.
And the constant ache of a knife that still felt warm in my hand.
Rhea limped beside me.
We moved through the maintenance tunnels beneath the lab—our last chance of getting out without being seen. Without being retrieved.
> "We're almost there," I said, though I didn't know if it was true.
She didn't respond.
Her breathing was shallow.
Each step left a drop of blood behind.
And still, she kept walking.
Like stopping would mean being pulled back into the tank.
---
Rhea
I didn't remember falling.
But I woke with Adrian's arms around me.
His hoodie zipped over my chest. His hands trembling against my waist.
> "You're burning up," he whispered.
He touched my forehead. Swore under his breath.
I knew what that meant.
The wound was infected.
The tracker wasn't just hardware.
It was chemical. Fused into my bloodstream. Removing it came with a cost.
> "Keep going," I said. "Even if I slow you down."
> "I'm not leaving you," he said instantly.
His eyes darkened.
And that was the scariest part.
Because I knew he meant it.
Even if it killed us both.
---
Meanwhile: Deep Below
The girl in the other tank woke up.
Not Rhea.
Not quite.
She looked like her.
Moved like her.
But when she opened her eyes, they were glassy. Hollow.
Her name flickered on the screen above her:
> SUBJECT: ECHO-001
> STATUS: INACTIVE
Until now.
A soft ping echoed.
The technician turned.
"Sir. She's waking up."
The Director leaned in.
> "Which one?"
> "The second."
> "Rhea's replacement?"
The tech nodded.
"Tracking indicates she's responding to memory bleed. Something's triggering cross-subject recall."
The Director's smile was slow.
> "Then send her after them."
> "Let's see what happens when he has to choose between the original…"
> "And the perfected version."
---
Adrian's pov
Rhea was slipping in and out of consciousness.
I carried her now.
She felt lighter than I remembered.
Too light.
> "Almost there," I muttered, as we reached the end of the tunnel.
Rust-streaked stairs led up into moonlight.
An access hatch. Real air. Real sky.
We were going to make it.
I climbed the stairs.
Turned the handle.
Pushed.
And froze.
Because standing just outside the hatch—
Wearing the same gloves, the same uniform, the same cold, unreadable face—
Was her.
Not Rhea.
But someone with her face.
And behind her—
Dozens of shadows.
---
Rhea's pov
I heard his breath catch.
Forced my eyes open.
Looked past his shoulder.
And knew.
> They'd sent her.
The version they wanted him to choose.
The version without the blood. Without the fire. Without me.
She tilted her head.
Stared at me like I was the broken one.
Then she spoke.
> "Return. Or he dies."
---
Adrian's pov
I didn't hesitate.
I pulled Rhea closer.
And looked the other one in the eye.
> "Then I guess I die."
Rhea's pov
The corridor pulsed red.
Emergency lights stuttered overhead. Sirens screeched. The walls trembled.
But none of it mattered.
He was holding my hand.
We ran.
I didn't ask where. I didn't need to.
Because wherever Adrian went, I would follow.
> Not because they made me love him.
Not because I was programmed to feel anything.
But because he looked at me like I was more than just a test result.
And maybe, for once, I believed him.
---
Adrian's pov
We passed labs. Crates. Locked doors.
None of them opened for us.
Until one did.
A hiss of air. The door slid back—smooth, like it had been waiting for me.
The room inside was cold. Dark. No lights, no control panels.
Just a stairway. Leading down.
> "This isn't on the schematics," I muttered.
Rhea didn't answer.
She just shivered.
"I know what this is," she whispered. "They called it the Root."
---
The Root
No cameras. No lights. No surveillance.
Only memory.
Old ones.
Twisted.
Stolen.
Some of them still alive.
We walked into the dark.
And the dark remembered us.
---
Director Kord
> [Accessing Restricted Surveillance: Sub-Layer 9]
A pause.
Footage flickered. Adrian and Rhea running. The door to the Root unlocking.
The Director exhaled sharply.
"They're not supposed to find that."
"Shall I deploy retrieval?" her assistant asked.
She hesitated.
"No. Let them go deeper."
> "Let them see what they were built from."
---
Rhea's pov
It wasn't a corridor.
It was a mausoleum.
Rows of sealed doors. Cryo units. Files carved into stone tablets, like someone had stopped trusting digital records long ago.
And names.
Dozens of them.
Each one crossed out.
Except the last.
SUBJECT ZERO – RHEA VIRELLE
STATUS: MISSING
CONDITION: UNSTABLE – DO NOT REACTIVATE
Adrian looked at me.
I looked at it.
"I didn't escape," I said. "They let me go."
---
Adrian's pov
She turned to me.
Eyes hollow.
"I was never free."
And maybe I should've been afraid of that.
But all I felt was fury.
Because they hadn't just rewritten me. They'd erased her and called it mercy.
> "Then we burn it," I said again.
> "All of it."
---
System Warning:
> Layer 9 Breach Confirmed.
Memory Vault Compromise Detected.
Initiating Contingency Protocol: HERITAGE.
Unknown Voice Logged:
> "Let the first memory wake. She'll come home eventually."
Rhea's pov
The walls hummed.
Not like machines. Not like power. But like something old.
Breathing.
I couldn't explain it, but my body knew before my mind did.
Something here remembered me.
Adrian touched my back.
> "What is this place, Rhea?"
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know.
Or maybe—deep down—I always had.
---
Vault X-0
We found the vault at the end of the hall.
Thicker than any other door. Reinforced with black metal, welded symbols, and biometric failsafes long since rusted over.
But the second I stood before it, it opened on its own.
Adrian stepped in front of me.
"I'll go first."
> But the voice inside stopped him cold.
Low. Crooked. Ageless.
And it said my name.
> "Rhea."
---
Adrian's pov
I froze.
It wasn't her voice. It wasn't even human.
It was the sound of a dream rotting alive. The kind of voice that belonged to something that had waited too long.
Something that had once been part of her… or maybe the reason she existed at all.
> "You came back," it said.
> "They told me you wouldn't."
I grabbed Rhea's wrist. "We need to go."
But she was already walking forward.
Like it had called her home.
---
Inside Vault X-0
No machines.
Just a room made of mirrors.
But not reflections.
Each pane shimmered with memories. Flickering. Overlapping. A kaleidoscope of pain and silence and loneliness—and one girl standing at the center of them all.
Me.
> I had been here before.
---
Rhea's pov
The center of the room held a single chair.
Not like the restraint ones. This one was gentle. Wooden. Familiar.
Like something from a nursery.
And sitting in it was a figure.
Half-rotted. Half-light.
My own face. But older. Wrong.
Like time had tried to erase her and failed.
"You're not real," I whispered.
The creature smiled.
> "Neither are you."
---
Adrian's pov
I moved toward