The hallway was too quiet.
Naya pressed her back to the wall, her breath caught in her throat as her fingers tightened around the rusted key she'd taken from the basement door. It had taken days of watching, waiting, pretending to be obedient—just long enough for Kael to let his guard down.
But tonight wasn't about waiting anymore.
Tonight was about knowing.
She moved like a shadow through the corridor, her bare feet silent on the cold tile floor. The lights above flickered, casting brief halos that made the mansion feel even more haunted. Kael was nowhere to be seen. He hadn't locked her room. That alone was a message.
He wanted her to look. To find something. To fall into whatever trap he had laid.
But she didn't care anymore.
Not since she heard her name.
Not since she heard herself begging on that tape.
⸻
The door at the end of the hall hadn't been opened in weeks—not since the last time she heard screaming behind it. She had convinced herself it was a dream. Or a memory. But the faint scratch marks on the frame told a different story.
She pushed the key into the lock, her hands trembling.
It clicked.
The door creaked open.
Inside was darkness. Not just a room without light—but something wrong. The air was heavier. Colder. And the silence inside wasn't empty. It was watching.
She stepped in.
The door slammed shut behind her.
⸻
A projector flickered on without warning.
A large white sheet had been pinned to the wall like a makeshift screen. And on it, her face appeared. Younger. Bruised. Eyes wide and searching.
The video was old.
She was strapped to a chair, arms shaking as she looked at someone just outside the frame.
"Please," her voice cracked, breathless. "Don't let me forget. If I forget… he'll win."
The girl on screen sobbed.
"Remind me who I am. If I lose my name, I lose everything."
The screen went black.
Naya didn't know she had dropped to her knees until the pain hit. Her heart thundered in her ears. The air was too thick to breathe.
I asked to remember.
She staggered to her feet, reaching blindly for the projector. A stack of tapes sat beside it. Labeled with names. Dozens of them. Crossed out. One still bore a fresh strip of tape across the front, not yet labeled.
She picked it up.
Kael's handwriting: NAYA. FINAL SESSION.
Her hands shook so hard she nearly dropped it.
She was still staring at the tape when the door creaked again.
But no one entered.
Only a voice came through, calm and calculated.
"Some people were born to survive. Others were built to forget."
Kael.
His voice came from a speaker above her, laced with static. He was watching her. Listening.
"You wanted the truth. I gave you that. You think remembering makes you stronger? No. It makes you mine again."
Naya's lips parted, but no sound came out.
The room began