"Once the Ghost Protocol is activated, there's no undoing it. It erases more than enemies it erases identity. If the corporations get their hands on it, no one will remember who they were… not even themselves."
---
The hum of the underground servers was like a heartbeat, steady and metallic, echoing against the rust-streaked walls of the abandoned transit station we had claimed as a safehouse. Every sound in that cavernous chamber seemed amplified my own uneven breathing, the faint drip of water from some ancient pipe, the soft stutter of the failing emergency lights.
I sat cross-legged on the cement floor, my knees numb, my palms clammy as I hovered them over the glowing interface. The Eternal Code spiraled above me, a lattice of living data that pulsed in rhythm with my own heart. Every time I stared too long, I felt the lines move with intention, as if it wasn't just a program but a presence watching, listening, deciding.
It was beautiful in a terrifying way. Like staring at lightning caught in a bottle. Like staring at God's handwriting.
I swallowed hard and reached out. My fingertips brushed against the holographic projection, and symbols rearranged themselves into sequences too old, too alien to have been built by human hands. The air itself seemed to vibrate, as if the Code's presence distorted reality around it.
Behind me, Kael's boots scraped the floor. He didn't have to say anything; his presence always filled whatever room we were in. Heavy. Grounding. But tonight, his silence carried the sharp edge of disapproval.
"You shouldn't have gone this far," he said finally, his voice low, taut, like a wire pulled too tight. "Every time you access the Code, you let it in deeper. It doesn't just give it takes."
I kept my eyes fixed on the shimmering script, unwilling to let his words pull me away. "If I don't decode this, my brother dies." My voice came out sharper than I intended, but truth didn't need softening.
Kael crouched beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. The warmth of him against the icy air made me shiver. His mismatched eyes one steel-gray, the other a storm-cloud blue were fixed on the swirling data.
"And if you succeed, Ayla? What happens to you? What happens if there's nothing left of you by the time you save him?"
His words burrowed deep, because they echoed fears I refused to voice. He didn't know about the mirror flickers, the way my reflection sometimes lagged half a second behind me. Didn't know about the dreams where I woke up speaking in voices that weren't my own. I hadn't told him. If I did, he might drag me away from the Code before I was ready and my brother didn't have that time.
The silence between us buzzed, heavy with unspoken things. I could feel Kael's gaze on me, could sense the tightness in his jaw, but I didn't look at him. Instead, I pressed harder into the Code, demanding it reveal what it had hidden.
That's when the wall-screen to my left shuddered to life.
Static bled across the cracked glass, then jagged red text scrawled itself over the display, sharp enough to sting my eyes:
PROTOCOL: GHOST DETECTED.
TRACE INITIATED.
My stomach dropped.
"They've found us," I whispered.
Kael surged to his feet, weapon already in hand. "No. This isn't just a trace." His voice had tightened, almost breaking. "This is worse. They've launched the Ghost Protocol."
The words hung in the cold air like a death sentence.
I forced myself to stand, my legs shaky beneath me. I'd heard the rumors whispered between rebels in dark alleys, passed like contraband across encrypted channels. A digital myth, they called it something so devastating no one truly believed it existed.
But myths didn't write themselves in red across a secure wall-screen.
My throat tightened. "What does it do?"
Kael hesitated. His hand flexed on the grip of his gun. His eyes hard, calculating darkened with something I had rarely seen in him. Fear.
"It wipes," he said finally. "Not just files. Not just databanks. Memory. Entire lives erased. You survive… but you don't remember who you are. No loyalties, no love, no past. Just a body obedient, hollow." His jaw locked. "It turns people into living ghosts."
The silence that followed was suffocating. My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out the hum of servers.
And then, the Code shifted again. The spiraling lattice of symbols scattered, fracturing into shards of light before reassembling. What emerged wasn't script but a string of numbers.
Coordinates.
Kael's gaze snapped to the glowing digits. "That's a summons."
I shook my head, every nerve in my body sparking with dread. "No. It's… it's a warning."
The floor shuddered beneath us, cutting off my protest. Dust rained from the cracked ceiling, coating my hair in grit. The emergency lights flared red, bathing Kael's features in a hellish glow.
And then came the sound footsteps. Dozens of them. Marching in perfect synchronization. The metallic clang echoed through the tunnels, closer with every second.
"Drones," Kael muttered, lifting his gun.
I stared at the coordinates, still pulsing in the air like a heartbeat. My chest tightened. I knew deep in the marrow of my bones that they led to my brother.
If I ran now, I might live. If I followed them, I might lose myself completely.
The ceiling above us groaned, then split open as rusted panels screeched wide. Cold beams of artificial light speared into the chamber. Voices followed, mechanical and merciless:
"Target acquired. Initiating wipe."
Kael grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the shadows of the escape tunnel. His grip was iron, but I clutched the drive holding fragments of the Code even tighter.
"Ayla, move!" he barked.
I stumbled after him, my lungs burning, but my eyes remained locked on the red text glowing in the darkness. The words fractured, rearranged, until one sentence remained:
AYLA MORGAN MUST BE ERASED.
My lungs seized. My name. My identity.
The Code hadn't just identified me.
It had chosen me.
Above us, the synchronized steps grew louder. The enforcers were descending.
Kael fired a burst into the shadows, sparks igniting the air. "They're here!"
The first drone soldier dropped through the opening, its blank chrome face reflecting my horror back at me.
And as its weapon charged with a shrill whine, I realized with chilling clarity
The Ghost Protocol wasn't just targeting my location.
It was targeting me.
---
Ayla realizes the Ghost Protocol has marked her identity for erasure, making her the true target.