The room was stifling, the air thick with a silence that weighed heavily on Jack. He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the cracked floorboards as if they held answers. The fragments of memory clawed at his mind, unrelenting and vivid. A lullaby, soft and haunting, echoed in his thoughts, merging with distant cries of a child. Not his cries—Amon's.
Jack pressed his palms against his temples, forcing himself to breathe.
"They're not your memories," he muttered under his breath, his voice low, barely audible.
But no matter how often he repeated those words, the distinction between himself and Amon blurred further with each passing day. The confrontation with Clara and Eli had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. Their insistence that he was Amon, their Amon, gnawed at him. Clara's trembling voice as she spoke of Amon's childhood, Eli's piercing gaze—everything about them unsettled him. He could still see the faint glow of that pendant in his mind's eye, its soft light flickering like a dying ember.
Jack rose abruptly, pacing the small room. Each step creaked under his weight, a sharp reminder of the fragile foundation he stood on—both here and within himself. If Clara and Eli continued to pry, they could expose him. And if they exposed him… Jack clenched his fists.
"I can't let that happen."
The faint sound of footsteps outside his door interrupted his thoughts. He froze, the tension coiling in his muscles. Lila's hesitant knock followed moments later. She didn't wait for an invitation, pushing the door open just enough to peer inside.
Her usual calm demeanor was replaced with unease, her hands lingering on the doorknob. Jack noticed the tension in her jaw, the way her eyes flicked between him and the hallway behind her.
"You don't have to go through with this," Lila said softly, her concern genuine.
Jack forced a tight-lipped smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "I'll be fine."
Lila's brows furrowed, but she nodded and stepped aside, her reluctance clear. Jack stepped through the door, his heart thudding in his chest as he made his way to the room where Clara and Eli waited.
The curtains were drawn tight, the dim light casting long shadows that danced with every flicker of the lantern. Clara sat on the edge of a worn armchair, her hands twisting a handkerchief in her lap. Eli stood behind her, his tall frame looming, his piercing gaze unwavering as it fixed on Jack.
"Thank you for agreeing to speak with us," Clara began, her voice strained but sincere.
Jack didn't respond immediately. Instead, he moved to the lone chair opposite them and sat, his posture guarded. "I didn't have much of a choice."
Clara flinched, her composure faltering. Her grip on the handkerchief tightened as she pressed on. "I know this is… difficult. But we've spent years searching for you, Amon." Her voice cracked on the name, and she reached into her pocket, pulling out the pendant.
The sight of it froze Jack in place, the faint glow stirring something primal within him—a pull he couldn't quite explain.
"This belonged to you," Clara whispered, holding it out. The glow flickered, brighter now as it neared Jack, almost as if it recognized him. "Do you recognize it?"
Jack hesitated, his unease carefully masked. "It's… familiar," he admitted, keeping his tone neutral.
Clara's breath hitched, her relief palpable. "You wore it every day. It was a gift from…" Her voice trailed off, emotion stealing her words.
Eli's voice cut through the tension, sharp and demanding. "You've been avoiding our questions. Why don't you start by explaining how you're here? Like this?" He gestured vaguely to Jack, his meaning clear.
Jack leaned back, crossing his arms. "I don't owe you an explanation."
Eli's eyes narrowed. "That's convenient."
"Enough, Eli," Clara said, though her voice trembled. She turned back to Jack, her desperation seeping through her carefully chosen words. "Please, Amon. Just tell us you remember something. Anything."
Jack's mind raced. The walls felt like they were closing in, their questions pressing against the fragile facade he'd built. His gaze flicked to the pendant again, its glow growing stronger, the air around it heavy with an energy he couldn't place.
"I remember… flashes," Jack said slowly, carefully. "Nothing concrete. Just… feelings. Sounds."
Clara's expression crumbled, her hope mingling with sorrow. Jack knew he had given her just enough to keep her invested without exposing himself entirely.
The pendant's glow faded slightly as Clara tucked it back into her pocket. Jack exhaled, his grip on control tenuous at best.
Hours later, the oppressive weight of the conversation still lingered as Jack sat beneath the dying oak tree in the courtyard. Its skeletal branches stretched above him, casting jagged shadows that swayed with the wind.
A familiar presence stirred the air, and Jack felt her before he saw her.
"Stasha," he muttered, the name slipping from his lips like a curse.
She stepped out from behind the tree, her dark eyes gleaming with a knowing intensity. Her movements were deliberate, unhurried, as though she had all the time in the world to unnerve him.
"You look… tense," Stasha said, her voice smooth and measured.
Jack didn't respond. He couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze, the weight of her presence already too much.
"You shouldn't trust them," Stasha continued, tilting her head slightly. "The ones claiming to be your family. They'll only drag you down."
"What do you know?" Jack snapped, his frustration bubbling to the surface despite himself.
Stasha's smile widened, though it lacked any warmth. "More than you think." She paused, her tone growing softer, almost conspiratorial. "You're playing a dangerous game, Amon."
Her use of his name felt deliberate, a reminder that she saw through him in ways others couldn't. He stiffened, the hairs on the back of his neck rising.
"What do you want from me?" he demanded, his voice low and edged with exhaustion.
Stasha leaned in, her breath brushing against his ear as she whispered, "To remind you that trust is a luxury you can't afford."
She pulled back before he could respond, the shadows swallowing her as quickly as they had delivered her.
Her words lingered, gnawing at Jack as he wandered back into the orphanage. The faint sound of voices drew his attention as he passed the kitchen.
"You think they'll leave soon?" Lila's voice was hushed, but the worry in her tone was unmistakable.
"Doubt it," another caretaker replied. "People like them don't just wander in for nothing. There's something… off about them."
Jack froze, his ears straining to catch every word.
"They're dangerous, Lila. You know it as well as I do. Their presence could bring trouble to all of us."
The confirmation of his suspicions sent a chill down Jack's spine. Even the caretakers saw Clara and Eli as a threat.
That night, the orphanage was shrouded in darkness when Jack woke to the sound of muffled footsteps. His senses sharpened instantly, the fog of sleep dissipating as adrenaline surged through his veins.
Slipping out of bed, he crept into the hallway, catching sight of Clara and Eli moving stealthily toward the library.
He followed, keeping to the shadows as he watched them slip inside. Taking a steadying breath, Jack pushed the door open just enough to enter.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice low but firm.
Clara and Eli whirled around, startled. Clara clutched something in her hand, her expression guilty.
"We didn't mean to wake you," Clara said quickly, her voice shaky.
Jack stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "You're sneaking around in the middle of the night. That doesn't exactly scream innocent."
Eli stepped forward, his posture imposing. "We're searching for answers. Answers you seem intent on hiding."
Jack's jaw tightened. "And what, exactly, do you think you'll find?"
Eli didn't respond immediately. Instead, he pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and held it out.
Jack hesitated before taking it. The parchment was old, the edges frayed, and the ink faint but legible. The writing was in a cipher—one Jack recognized instantly from Amon's memories.
The room seemed to tilt as the words swam before his eyes.
"Where did you get this?" Jack demanded, his voice rising.
Clara stepped forward, her tone almost pleading. "It was among your things… before you disappeared. It's addressed to you, Amon. To the part of you that we don't understand."
Jack's grip on the letter tightened as his eyes scanned the opening lines:
"Within you lies a power that must never awaken."
The words struck him like a physical blow, and the pendant around Clara's neck began to glow brighter, casting flickering shadows across the library walls.
A sharp, stabbing sensation tore through Jack's chest, as if the very fabric of his being was unraveling. The memories clawed at him, stronger now, threatening to consume him.
He stumbled back, his breaths ragged. The shadows seemed to deepen, the air heavy with an unseen force.
Clara reached out, but Jack flinched away. "Stay back," he growled, his voice laced with panic.
The letter fell from his trembling hands as he backed toward the door.
He didn't understand what was happening, but one thing was clear:
If the power within him awakened, it would destroy him.
The pendant's glow dimmed, the silence that followed deafening.
Jack turned on his heel and stormed out, the letter clenched tightly in his hand. As he climbed the stairs back to his room, the weight of his dual identity bore down on him.
He couldn't escape Amon.
And perhaps, deep down, he didn't want to.