"It was you."
Their mother’s finger remained pointed at the figure.
For several seconds, nobody spoke. The figure stood beside the metal table, its dark eyes fixed on the woman who had just accused it. It did not look surprised. If anything, it looked as though it had been waiting for her to remember, though Veyric couldn’t tell whether that expectation came from an actual memory or something buried deeper in its design.
Veyric stepped between them.
"Explain."
Their mother struggled to find her voice. "I remember someone standing beside the lower chamber. I remember asking how the separation would work. I remember being told that you would both survive."
She looked at the figure again, her hand beginning to tremble.
"That person had your face."
The figure lowered its eyes.
Nyelle moved closer to Veyric. "But this thing looks like him. That doesn’t mean it was the person you saw."
"I know what I saw," their mother replied.
"Then tell us something only that person would know."
Their mother closed her eyes. She seemed to be searching through a place inside herself that she had avoided for years, but whatever she found did not come easily. Her lips moved once before she managed to speak.
"He told me not to trust the first version of the System."
Veyric felt his attention sharpen. "What?"
"He said the System would recognize you as the original, but that classification wouldn’t tell me which one of you came first. He said there would be another version of you, one that would remember what happened even after the memories were removed."
The figure’s fingers curled.
Veyric turned toward it. "Did you give her those instructions?"
"I don’t know."
"That’s becoming a convenient answer."
"I remember giving someone instructions," the figure replied. "I don’t remember being here."
"Then how do you know what you were supposed to do?"
The figure looked at him.
"Because I remember you."
A notification appeared above the metal table.
[MEMORY RECORD: UNSTABLE.]
[IDENTITY MATCH: PARTIAL.]
[SUBJECT DESIGNATION: VEYRIC.]
[ORIGINALITY: UNRESOLVED.]
Veyric ignored it.
He was tired of watching the System turn every question into another classification. It had already shown them that its information could be incomplete, manipulated, or inherited from something that understood far more than it did. Even now, it could identify his face but could not establish which version of him had come first. He wondered whether the System was failing to understand the truth or whether it had been built to conceal it.
He approached the figure.
"Look at me. When you say you remember me, what exactly do you remember?"
The figure hesitated.
"You were crying."
Veyric felt his stomach tighten.
"You were standing beside a door. You kept asking when Nyelle would come back. I told you she would return when the separation was complete."
"Was that true?"
"No."
The answer came without hesitation.
Nyelle’s expression hardened. "You lied to him?"
"I was told to."
"By whom?"
The figure looked at their mother.
She shook her head. "I didn’t tell you to lie."
"No," the figure said. "You told me to keep him alive."
Their mother went completely still.
Veyric watched her face. "What does that mean?"
She looked at him, and for the first time since entering the chamber, he saw something beyond confusion.
Guilt.
"I was afraid you wouldn’t survive the procedure," she whispered.
"What procedure?"
"The separation."
The word seemed to change the air around them.
Nyelle released Veyric’s sleeve. Her expression shifted from anger to disbelief, as though the answer had confirmed something she had been afraid to ask. "You knew they were going to separate us?"
"I knew they wanted to divide something. I didn’t understand what they meant until it was too late."
"Then why did you let them take him?"
"I thought I was saving you both."
Nyelle stared at her. "You let them take my brother, and you thought you were saving us?"
"I was given a choice."
"What choice?"
Their mother looked down at the floor.
"One of you could remain outside. The other had to stay inside."
The child beside Nyelle took a small step forward. "Inside what?"
Their mother shook her head. "I don’t know."
The figure spoke quietly.
"The second chamber."
Veyric turned toward it. "You said the chamber was sealed."
"It was."
"Then how did you know what happened inside?"
The figure looked at the metal table. "Because I was there."
Veyric studied its face. The answer had come too quickly to be a guess, but the figure still seemed unable to explain what being there meant. It remembered fragments of a past in which it had apparently given orders, protected him, and watched a separation take place. Yet it could not remember who had created it or why it had been given those responsibilities.
"Were you the one who took me away from Nyelle?" Veyric asked.
"I was there when you were separated."
"That’s not what I asked."
The figure’s jaw tightened. "I don’t know if I was the one who carried you."
"Did you give the order?"
"I remember giving an order."
"To whom?"
The figure looked at their mother again.
She took a shaky breath. "I remember being told that the procedure was necessary. I remember being promised that you would both survive. I remember believing that if I followed the instructions, I would be able to bring you home."
Nyelle’s voice dropped. "But you didn’t."
Their mother looked at her.
"I thought I had."
The admission hurt more than another denial would have. Nyelle turned away, pressing her lips together. Veyric wanted to reach for her, but he knew that another gesture of comfort would not answer the question she had been carrying since the phone call.
The phone screen lit up again.
A new recording appeared, but this time there was no caller name. Only a sequence of symbols, arranged in a pattern Veyric had seen beneath the ancient structure. The symbols moved slowly across the screen, changing positions as though the device were translating something that had never been intended for it.
The child approached the table.
"Don’t touch it," Veyric warned.
"I won’t."
The symbols shifted.
A line of text appeared beneath them.
[SECOND CHAMBER: MEMORY ARCHIVE.]
The child leaned closer.
"It’s not showing us a memory," it said.
"Then what is it showing?" Veyric asked.
"A record of what the chamber believes happened."
Veyric looked at the figure. "Is that different?"
"It can be."
The child glanced at him. "A memory belongs to someone. A record belongs to whatever kept it."
Veyric considered the distinction. The chamber had shown him images of his childhood, but those images might not have been complete. The phone had produced recordings that seemed to recognize both him and Nyelle, yet the System had already warned that their source was unverified. If this archive contained the chamber’s version of events, it might offer the truth—or another carefully preserved lie.
"Can the record be changed?" he asked.
The child looked at the symbols. "I think someone already changed it."
The display flickered.
A grainy image formed above the table.
A room appeared, larger than the one they had just seen. Several white circles covered the floor, and a transparent barrier divided the space into two sections. Behind the barrier stood a young Veyric, holding Nyelle’s hand.
Their mother stood on the other side.
Beside her was the figure.
But it was not small anymore.
It was taller, dressed in a dark uniform, and its face carried the same scar Veyric had on his shoulder.
Veyric stepped closer.
The recorded figure turned toward their mother.
"Which one are we keeping?"
The question came from the image, but the voice was unmistakably the one standing beside them.
Their mother in the recording looked toward the children. Her expression was difficult to read, but Veyric recognized the posture: the same rigid determination she had shown when she insisted she was trying to remember. She seemed to be forcing herself to make a decision she did not want to make.
"The one who can remember."
The recorded figure nodded.
"And the other?"
She hesitated.
"Make sure he forgets."
Nyelle covered her mouth.
The image flickered.
The young Veyric began pulling against his mother’s hand, while Nyelle cried beside him. Then the barrier brightened, separating them. Their hands remained joined for one final moment before the light swallowed the space between them.
The recording stopped.
Veyric stared at the empty space above the table.
"Which one was I?"
Nobody answered.
He turned toward their mother. "You said one would remain outside. Which one?"
Her lips moved, but no words came.
The figure beside him stepped forward.
"You were the one they kept."
Veyric looked at it.
"Then who was the other?"
The figure’s dark eyes shifted toward Nyelle.
She backed away.
"No."
Veyric followed its gaze. "What are you saying?"
The figure did not answer immediately. Its expression had changed again, and this time there was no mistaking the fear in it. Whatever it had been made to protect Veyric from, the truth was now close enough to reach them.
Nyelle shook her head. "Don’t look at me like that."
"I haven’t said anything," the figure replied.
"You don’t have to."
The child suddenly grabbed Veyric’s wrist.
"Don’t let it finish."
Veyric looked down at the child’s hand. "Why?"
"Because the record is changing."
The image above the table reappeared.
This time, the two children were no longer separated by the barrier.
They stood on the same side.
And behind them, another child was lying on the floor.
Veyric stepped closer, trying to see its face, but the image distorted whenever he focused on it. The child appeared to be about their age, perhaps younger. Its body was turned slightly away, one arm stretched across the floor as though it had been reaching for someone before it fell.
The System flickered violently.
[ADDITIONAL SUBJECT DETECTED.]
[SUBJECT COUNT: THREE.]
[PREVIOUS RECORD: TWO.]
[RECORD INTEGRITY: COMPROMISED.]
Veyric stared at the third child.
Its face was hidden, but its right hand was visible.
A thin blue line ran beneath the skin.
The same mark that had appeared on his own hand.
He looked down at his palm. There was no visible line now, but he remembered the pain, the way the mark had spread across his skin, and the force that had tried to pull him into the opening. The third child’s hand carried the same pattern, as though the connection had existed long before he ever entered the chamber.
"Who is that?" Nyelle whispered.
Their mother moved closer to the table. "There were only two children."
The figure’s head turned sharply toward her.
"You remember that?"
"I remember two."
"Then why does the record show three?"
She shook her head. "I don’t know."
Veyric looked at the figure. "You know something."
The figure stared at the child on the floor.
Its expression had emptied. The resemblance to Veyric seemed more disturbing now, not because they looked alike, but because Veyric could see the same fear he had felt when the voice beneath the floor spoke through him.
Then the figure whispered something that made Veyric turn.
"That one wasn’t supposed to survive."
The image went black.
For a moment, the only light came from the pale screen beneath the metal table. Nyelle stepped closer to Veyric, but she kept looking at the place where the third child had been. Their mother stood motionless, her hand still raised, as though she had been about to touch the image before it disappeared.
Veyric looked at the figure.
"Who wasn’t supposed to survive?"
The figure did not answer.
"Was it the third child?"
Silence.
"Was it me?"
The figure’s eyes lifted.
"I don’t know."
Veyric’s patience finally broke. "You keep telling us you remember. You remember the separation, the instructions, the room, and the person you were supposed to protect. But every time we get close to understanding what happened, you stop."
"Because I can’t remember what comes after."
"Then what are you afraid of?"
The figure looked toward the dark screen.
"Remembering why I let it happen."
Before Veyric could question it further, a faint sound came from the metal table.
A small movement.
Then another.
The screen illuminated by itself.
A child’s voice spoke from the device.
"Why did you leave me?"