The whiteness stretched forever.
It wasn't fog. It wasn't light. It was nothing.
Ethan's breath rasped in his throat, every sound muffled, as though the emptiness itself was swallowing noise. His sneakers scuffed against a floor that didn't look like it was there. White on white. No walls, no ceiling, no ground—and yet, something held his weight.
He dared a glance at Raven.
She stood with perfect posture, her coat brushing an invisible surface. The glow from her broken tablet had vanished, yet she still exuded a sharp, calculated aura—as though she had expected this.
"What… is this place?" Ethan's voice cracked. "What did we just—"
"The Core." Raven's voice echoed unnaturally, repeating itself a fraction of a beat too late. The Core. The Core.
Her eyes flicked to his phone, now little more than a spiderwebbed screen, still glowing faintly. "You weren't supposed to hit a hundred percent. Not this soon."
Ethan clenched the scarf tighter in his fist. The red fabric pulsed faintly, threads of light still weaving through it. "You're telling me this—this nothing is the Core? The center of what?"
"Of her."
The words hit him like a blow.
Ethan's pulse thundered. "Liora."
Raven's silence was answer enough.
He swallowed hard, heart aching with sudden hope. "So she is here. I knew it—I knew she wasn't gone, not completely."
But Raven stepped closer, her boots making no sound on the pale nothing. Her eyes were unreadable, yet sharp as blades.
"You don't understand. If she's here, she's fragmented. Scattered. What you hear… what you think you hear—it may not be her at all."
Ethan's grip on the scarf tightened. "I know her voice."
"Do you?" Raven's tone softened, almost coaxing. "Or do you only know the echo of what you want her to be?"
Before Ethan could answer, the void trembled.
It started faint. A thread of sound in the static silence.
"Ethan…"
The syllables rippled through the white like cracks through glass. Ethan's heart lurched.
"Liora?" he whispered, spinning in circles, trying to pinpoint the direction. But there was no direction. Her voice came from everywhere at once.
He ran forward blindly, scarf whipping around him. The whiteness stretched on, infinite, unchanging. His breath came ragged. "Liora! Where are you?!"
"Here…"
Closer. Clearer.
But then—another voice overlapped.
"Don't trust her."
The exact warning he'd heard when the Restore hit 100%.
Ethan froze, shivering. "What—what do you mean?"
No answer. Only that same whisper, tangled with the first, like two frequencies colliding.
Raven stepped closer, her hand brushing his arm. "Ethan. Focus. If you run blindly, this place will eat you alive. You'll dissolve into the static."
He shook her off, glaring. "Why should I trust you? She said—"
His voice broke.
"She said not to trust you."
For the first time, Raven's expression faltered. A flicker—pain, or anger—before the mask slid back into place.
"She?" Raven said flatly. "Or the echo of her?"
Ethan's stomach turned.
The void shivered again. This time, the whiteness split.
Thin cracks opened like lightning, jagged black fractures in the endless pale. From them spilled fragments—shards of images flickering like broken screens.
A girl's hand brushing hair behind her ear.
A scarf being tied around a neck.
Eyes. Brown. Bright. Terrified.
"Liora…" Ethan whispered, reaching toward the shards. His fingers brushed one, and it seared him with cold. He snatched his hand back, skin red.
Raven hissed. "Don't touch them raw. They're unstable."
Ethan ignored her, reaching again, slower this time. The shard flickered, showing Liora's face—laughing in the sun, then dissolving into static.
He nearly wept. "It's her. She's here. I can bring her back."
"Not without me."
Her voice was calm, but her eyes were sharp. Possessive.
Ethan spun toward her. "Why are you so invested? You don't even know her. What do you want from me?"
Raven tilted her head. "You'll understand. Soon."
The void shook harder. More fractures split the white.
The fragments poured faster now, raining like glass shards in every direction. The air hummed with static, the whiteness darkening at the edges.
Ethan's phone buzzed violently in his hand. Despite its shattered screen, new text scrolled across it—letters forming on their own.
Fragment detected. Synchronize?
His breath caught. He looked at Raven, then back at the words.
"Yes," he whispered, pressing his thumb to the glass.
The phone flared, and the shard in front of him melted into light, streaming into the cracked screen.
The progress bar reappeared—new, glowing red this time.
Fragment Restore: 1%.
Ethan's heart leapt.
Proof. She wasn't gone. Not completely.
He spun to Raven, voice trembling with both fear and hope. "I can do it. I can bring her back."
Raven's lips curved into a small, dangerous smile.
"That's what I've been waiting for."
And behind her, the void tore open.
The void ripped.
A jagged wound tore open behind Raven, black static pouring like smoke. Out of it lumbered something far larger than the Watchers.
The Guardian.
It dwarfed them both—ten feet tall, its body an unstable silhouette that flickered between frames. Its arms ended not in hands but in long, serrated static-blades that hummed with distortion. Its void-face bore a crack down the center, light leaking out like a fractured screen.
The fragments in the air gravitated toward it, shards of Liora's smile and voice sticking to its form like insects caught in resin. Her memories were being consumed.
Ethan's chest tightened in horror. "No. That's hers—you can't—"
The Guardian turned. The crack in its void-face pulsed.
And it roared.
The blast of static knocked Ethan off his feet, slamming him hard against the invisible floor. His vision spun, ears ringing.
Raven was already moving. Glyphs streamed from her palms, circling her fingers in glowing lines as she hurled a command into the void.
A barrier flared between them and the beast—thin, translucent. The Guardian raised one massive blade and swung.
The barrier shattered like glass.
"Run!" Raven shouted.
But there was nowhere to run.
The Guardian swung again. Ethan rolled aside, the static blade slicing inches from his torso. The floor beneath him glitched—white warping into jagged lines where the blade struck.
He scrambled to his feet, scarf glowing in his fist. "What the hell do we do?!"
"Keep it distracted!" Raven barked, glyphs blazing from her hands.
"What, with this?" He waved the scarf helplessly.
The Guardian lunged. Ethan swung instinctively, the glowing threads whipping across its void-face.
For a heartbeat, the creature stuttered—its body flickering, fragments tearing free from its surface.
Liora's laughter spilled out, clear and sharp, before the static swallowed it again.
Ethan's heart lurched.
It worked.
The scarf wasn't just memory. It was a weapon.
"I can hit it!" Ethan shouted, adrenaline coursing through him.
"Then do it!" Raven launched glyphs like arrows, slamming into the Guardian's chest. Each impact left burns of light, slowing its movements.
Ethan darted forward, striking again. The scarf lashed across the Guardian's arm, tearing loose another fragment—this time, the image of Liora sitting under the cherry blossoms, notebook in hand.
The shard flew into the air, buzzing.
Ethan's phone lit up.
Synchronize Fragment?
He didn't hesitate.
"Yes!"
The shard melted into his screen, the bar climbing.
Fragment Restore: 3%.
The Guardian shrieked, its form convulsing as if weakened.
Ethan's chest burned—not from exhaustion, but from something stranger. The moment the shard fused, memory flooded him.
Not just recollection—immersion. He felt the breeze from that cherry blossom day, the weight of the notebook in his lap. Liora's voice murmuring equations only they understood.
He staggered, gasping. "I—I felt her."
Raven shot him a sharp look but didn't answer. Her glyphs blazed brighter, slamming into the Guardian's chest. "Stay focused! If you lose yourself, we both die!"
The monster's roar warped the entire Core, fractures spreading like spiderwebs. Shards of white peeled away into abyssal black, revealing glimpses of a deeper darkness beneath.
It swung both arms at once. Raven raised a glyph-shield and screamed as the impact hurled her backward. She skidded across the floorless white, blood trickling from her mouth.
"Raven!" Ethan ran toward her, but the Guardian cut him off, static-blade crashing down.
He barely dodged, the blade slicing the ground into distortion. His heart hammered. He couldn't keep this up.
"Think, Ethan—think!" His mind raced. The scarf responded to his grip, pulsing with light. It wasn't just a tether. It was amplifying fragments.
The Guardian swung again. Ethan ducked and whipped the scarf upward, striking its cracked void-face.
The crack widened.
Another fragment spilled free—a whisper: "Promise me, Ethan."
Tears stung his eyes. "I did. I promised."
The phone lit up again.
Fragment Restore: 6%.
The Guardian reeled, glitching, but didn't fall. Instead, it howled louder, dragging in more fragments from the air, feeding on them.
Images of Liora's smile, her laughter, her tears—devoured, twisted into its form.
Ethan's rage boiled. "Give her back!"
He lunged, striking again and again, each whip of the scarf tearing shards loose. His phone buzzed violently, the bar climbing with each sync.
8%… 10%… 12%…
The memories poured into him, overwhelming. His mind blurred between now and then, his heart aching with every whisper of her voice.
And through it all, Raven fought at his side—glyphs burning, her movements precise, relentless.
For a moment, they were in sync. Two fighters against the void.
They forced the Guardian back.
But Ethan staggered, clutching his chest. The fragments were too much. Liora's emotions surged inside him, threatening to drown his own.
Raven grabbed his arm, yanking him upright. Her eyes burned with something fierce—fear, anger, maybe even desperation.
"Listen to me!" she snapped. "If you keep absorbing them this fast, you won't be you anymore. You'll just be her vessel."
Ethan shook his head violently. "I don't care! If it means bringing her back—"
Her grip tightened. "You should care. Because once you're gone, who do you think she'll belong to?!"
The words slammed into him harder than any static blade.
He stared at her, shocked, but before he could respond—the Guardian roared again, its form convulsing violently.
It was weakening. But it wasn't done.
Raven shoved him away. "Move! We finish this now—or we don't leave at all!"
And together, they charged.
The Guardian didn't stop.
Its hulking form flickered, distortion spilling across the Core like wildfire. Shards of memory spiraled around it—Liora laughing, crying, whispering secrets—each one sucked into its cracked void-face.
Ethan's scarf pulsed in his hands, alive with light. He struck again, desperate. Another shard tore loose and melted into his phone.
Fragment Restore: 15%.
Then came the flood.
It wasn't just sight and sound anymore—it was sensation. The brush of Liora's fingertips on his knuckles. The cinnamon scent of her shampoo after gym class. The warmth of her head on his shoulder, on a night they swore they'd never forget.
Ethan gasped, knees buckling. His mind reeled, collapsing beneath the avalanche.
She's here. She's here with me. If I just keep going…
He struck again, then again. Shards rained into his phone.
18%. 21%. 25%.
His chest burned. His heartbeat wasn't his own anymore—it was hers, echoing, beating in tandem with his.
"Ethan!"
Raven's voice pierced the haze. She yanked him back just as the Guardian's blade crashed down where he stood. Sparks of static seared across his cheek.
Her eyes met his—sharp, unyielding. "You're losing yourself!"
He shook his head, clutching the scarf. "I have to. She's here—I can feel her—"
Raven's hand slapped across his face. Hard. The sting shocked him, cutting through the haze.
Her voice dropped low, fierce. "Then tell me this—who are you?"
The question hit deeper than the slap.
Ethan blinked, breath shuddering. His thoughts tangled—half his own, half Liora's.
Who was he? Ethan Cross, failed boyfriend, desperate coder, chasing a ghost? Or was he already dissolving into her—memories bleeding into one, his voice no longer his?
He staggered back, shaking. "I… I don't know."
Raven's jaw tightened. For the first time, her mask slipped, showing raw frustration—maybe even fear.
"If you vanish," she said, voice trembling beneath the steel, "then there's nothing left to bring her back to. Do you get that? You're the anchor. If you drown in her fragments, she'll never be whole."
Her words carved into him, sharp and merciless.
But the memories still clawed at him. Her laughter. Her tears. Her promise.
Ethan clutched his head, voice breaking. "I can't shut it out. I can't—"
Raven grabbed the scarf, forcing his hand to still. The fabric pulsed between their grips, light weaving up both their arms.
"Then share it," she whispered.
He froze. "What?"
Her eyes softened, for once not calculating but vulnerable. "Don't carry her alone. If you bleed out in here, you're no use to anyone. Let me shoulder some of it."
Before he could protest, Raven pressed her palm against his chest.
Glyphs ignited from her skin, threads of light snaking into him. The scarf blazed brighter, wrapping around them both like a tether.
And then—
The flood shifted.
Memories still poured, but they no longer tore at him alone. The weight split, half flowing into Raven. She flinched, gasping, as images stabbed through her—Liora's smile, her voice, her grief.
Her knees buckled, but she didn't let go.
"Damn it…" she muttered, breath ragged. "She's… she's stubborn."
Ethan stared, stunned. Raven's eyes shone—not just with strain, but with something softer. Empathy? Pain? He couldn't tell.
And for the first time, he realized she wasn't immune to this. Beneath the icy exterior, Raven was human. Vulnerable.
The realization grounded him.
"I…" His voice cracked, but steadied. "I'm Ethan. Not just her memory. Not just fragments. Me."
The scarf pulsed in agreement, its glow stabilizing.
The phone chimed.
Fragment Restore: 30%.
The Guardian roared, furious at their defiance. It swung wildly, blades crashing, distortion cracking the Core beneath them.
But Ethan no longer stumbled.
He could see—truly see. Every fragment it devoured left a faint trail of static inside its body, glowing weak points.
"Raven," he gasped, pointing. "The cracks in its chest—hit them!"
She followed his gaze, glyphs blazing into spears. She hurled them straight at the glowing fissures.
The Guardian shrieked, convulsing. More shards spilled out—Liora's hands, her scarf, her trembling lips whispering his name.
Ethan swung the scarf, tearing the fragments free before the beast could reclaim them.
The phone pulsed again.
35%. 38%. 40%.
Each sync steadied him now, the link with Raven diffusing the overload. The weight was shared.
But with every fragment, one truth sharpened in his chest:
Liora wasn't just data. She was alive in these pieces.
And he wasn't willing to let the void have her.
As the Guardian staggered, Raven fell to her knees, sweat dripping down her chin. Sharing the link was tearing at her too—her breaths ragged, her skin pale.
Yet her eyes locked on his.
"You see now," she gasped. "Why I needed you. Why no one else could do this."
Ethan swallowed hard. "Because I remember her."
"No." Raven's voice cracked. "Because you believe in her. Enough to fight the void itself."
Her hand trembled as she steadied him. "That's the only reason this is working."
Ethan's throat closed. He wanted to ask—why her? Why did Raven care so much about this fight, about him? But the words stuck.
The Guardian staggered closer, weaker but still dangerous. Its void-face crack gaped, spilling static.
Ethan lifted the scarf, his grip firm.
He wasn't just holding on for Liora anymore. He was holding on for himself.
The Guardian staggered.
Its towering frame rippled with distortion, shards of Liora's stolen fragments spilling from the crack in its void-face. Each fragment buzzed like a moth trapped in glass, fighting to break free.
Raven rose slowly, trembling, but her eyes were hard. "This is it. We end it now."
Ethan clenched the scarf in his fist. Its glow answered his heartbeat, threads of light coiling like fire. His phone pulsed violently, the progress bar hovering at 40% and climbing with each fragment sync.
The Guardian roared, blades slamming into the invisible ground. The Core fractured, spiderweb cracks racing beneath their feet. White peeled away into abyssal black, threatening to swallow them whole.
There would be no second chance.
Raven moved closer, nearly collapsing against him. She gripped his arm, forcing his gaze on hers.
"Listen. The crack in its face—it's unstable. If you can drive the scarf through it, you'll tear the fragments free."
Ethan's heart thundered. "And if I can't?"
"Then…" Her lips pressed into a thin line. "We dissolve with this place."
The Core trembled around them, the whiteness bleeding into shadow.
Ethan swallowed his fear. "Then I won't miss."
The Guardian swung both blades at once. Ethan and Raven split—Ethan diving left, Raven sprinting right, glyphs flaring around her hands. She hurled spears of light, pinning the Guardian's arms wide for a heartbeat.
"Now, Ethan!" she screamed.
He sprinted forward, scarf blazing. The threads lashed out, striking the Guardian's chest, ripping shards loose. His phone buzzed violently.
Fragment Restore: 45%... 48%... 52%.
Each shard stabbed his mind with memory—Liora's whispered dreams, her laughter echoing in a library, her lips brushing his cheek.
Tears blurred his vision. But he didn't stop.
The Guardian reeled, static pouring from its wounds. Raven slammed another glyph into the ground, chains of light erupting to bind its legs.
"Do it!" she shouted, voice breaking.
Ethan leapt.
He soared upward, scarf blazing like a blade. The Guardian's void-face turned toward him, the crack splitting wider, shrieking in pure static rage.
Ethan roared, swinging with everything he had.
The scarf struck true.
Light exploded through the crack, shards of fragments bursting out like glass shattering under pressure. The Guardian convulsed, shrieking, its massive frame unraveling into static ribbons.
Ethan's phone screamed in his hand.
Fragment Restore: 60%.
The memories flooded him—overwhelming, endless—but the tether to Raven steadied him.
And then, with one final howl, the Guardian disintegrated.
The Core trembled violently, stabilizing as the beast's distortion dissolved.
Silence.
Ethan collapsed to his knees, chest heaving, scarf dimming in his grasp.
It was over.
Or so he thought.
He turned, searching for Raven.
She was on her knees, glyph-light fading from her skin. Her hands trembled violently, blood dripping from her nose.
"Raven!" Ethan scrambled to her side, catching her before she hit the ground. Her body was cold, trembling with strain.
Her eyes fluttered open, pupils dilated. "Idiot…" she whispered, her voice hoarse. "You weren't supposed to push that far…"
Ethan's throat tightened. "We had no choice."
She gave a faint, bitter laugh. "Always the hero."
He shook his head. "You're the one who saved me."
Her hand twitched, gripping the front of his jacket weakly. Her lips moved, words barely audible.
"You still don't get it… do you?"
Ethan froze. "Get what?"
Her eyes sharpened for one fleeting second, a crack in her exhausted facade.
"Why I need her back."
And then her body went limp.
"Raven!" Ethan shook her, panic lacing his voice. She didn't respond—her breathing shallow, her skin pale.
He clutched her close, scarf wrapped around them both, his mind racing.
Her words echoed like a curse.
Why I need her back.
Not him. Not them. Her.
Ethan's stomach twisted.
What did Raven want with Liora?
The phone buzzed faintly in his hand, the fractured screen glowing with one final message.
Core Guardian: Defeated.
Exit unlocked.
Warning: Anchor unstable.
Ethan looked down at Raven, unconscious in his arms. The tether between them still glowed faintly, threads of memory binding them together.
For the first time, fear for her matched fear for Liora.
And in the silence of the Core, a whisper slid through his mind.
"Ethan… don't let her have me."