The room pressed in on him. The walls, the furniture, the dim glow of the city outside—it all felt wrong now. Kieran's breathing slowed, his mind working through a thousand scenarios.
Lyra.
The name echoed through his skull like a gunshot in an empty hall. He had heard it before—felt it before. The problem was, he didn't know if it was from this life or another.
His fingers twitched, itching to do something. Attack. Run. Demand answers. But something told him he had done all of that before. None of it had worked.
He exhaled slowly. "You put me here?" His voice was controlled, but the undercurrent of danger was undeniable. "Why?"
Lyra didn't back down. "Because you found something you weren't supposed to."
His jaw clenched. "What?"
She hesitated, but only for a second. "The truth."
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "That's convenient. Care to be a little more specific?"
Lyra studied him, her gaze sharp and assessing. Then she reached into her coat again. Kieran tensed, but she didn't pull a weapon. Instead, she placed a small, black tablet on the counter beside the silver device. Its screen flickered to life the moment it touched the surface.
FILE NAME: VOSS, KIERAN
Kieran's stomach dropped.
Beneath his name was a date—February 3rd, 2117. The day he enlisted. His enlistment records. But something was wrong.
The date was followed by a second entry. February 3rd, 2117 – Deceased.
His eyes darkened. He looked at Lyra. "What the hell is this?"
"You don't exist, Kieran," she said, voice steady. "Not anymore."
His fingers curled into fists. "That's bullshit."
She turned the tablet toward him, swiping the screen. The next file loaded. A video.
Kieran's breath hitched. It was him. Or… it should have been.
The footage was grainy, a security feed from a dimly lit corridor. A man—his exact height, his exact build—moved swiftly through a facility, taking out guards with brutal efficiency. But something was off. His movements were too perfect. His body language—too mechanical.
Then the camera angle shifted, and Kieran felt his world tilt.
The man turned his head toward the lens.
It wasn't just a resemblance.
It was him.
But it wasn't.
The man's eyes were different. Cold. Hollow. Empty of anything remotely human.
Lyra let the footage play for another few seconds before she shut the screen off. The silence between them felt like a loaded gun.
Kieran forced himself to speak. "What am I looking at?"
Lyra's voice was calm, but there was a gravity to it. "The last version of you before the reset."
His breath came slow and deliberate. "You're saying that's not me."
"I'm saying that was you," she corrected. "Before they wiped your mind. Before they rebuilt you into someone controllable."
His muscles locked. "They?"
Lyra met his gaze, her expression grim. "The ones who created this simulation. The ones who erased your past."
Kieran wanted to reject it, to call her a liar. But his body betrayed him. His gut knew. The fractured memories. The glitches. The feeling of something always lurking just outside his mind's reach.
She was telling the truth.
Kieran inhaled sharply. "What was I doing in that video?"
Lyra hesitated for the first time. "You were trying to kill me."
The words hit like a fist to the chest.
Kieran stiffened, his muscles coiling instinctively. No. That didn't make sense. He didn't remember her, but something inside told him she wasn't his enemy.
And yet, in that footage, he had been hunting her.
His voice was low. "Did I succeed?"
Lyra's lips pressed together. "Not that time."
Kieran took a slow step toward her. "And how many times have there been?"
Her silence was all the answer he needed.
A sick realization curled in his stomach. This wasn't the first time. Not the first reset. Not the first time he had woken up in this false reality, confused, with pieces missing.
Lyra had faced him before. And somehow, she had survived.
The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken truths. Then, finally, Lyra exhaled and took something else out of her coat. A thin, metallic chip.
"This is the real key," she said. "Not just to your memories—but to everything."
Kieran eyed it warily.
"If you want the truth," she continued, "this will show you what they don't want you to see."
Kieran's fingers twitched. The whisper returned in his head, more urgent than before.
Run.
His instincts screamed against taking the chip. But deep down, he knew—if he turned away now, if he let the fear win—he'd be trapped here forever.
He reached out.
His fingers closed around the chip.
The world shattered.