🔞 This chapter contains intense psychological themes, memory distortion, emotional trauma, and morally complex confrontation. R+ rated. Not for readers under 18. Discretion is strongly advised.
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Shame had never spoken.
Not because it lacked words.
But because it had never been allowed to know what it meant to say.
It had been written to absorb regret.
To contain the Author's abandoned guilt.
To suffer silently so he could keep writing without collapsing.
But now it stood in front of him—
Eyes stitched shut.
Body flickering with edits no story wanted.
And breath caught between silence and speech.
Author (kneeling): "I buried you."
Shame: "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧."
Its voice wasn't one sound.
It was a chorus of forgotten selves.
Rewritebearers erased. Lovers renamed. Edits rejected.
Each syllable burned with unfinished arcs and the agony of being made to vanish.
Auryne (to Syra): "He's unraveling."
Syra (cold): "Good."
Shame reached toward the Author.
Its fingers dripped black ink-memory—the kind that sticks to bone.
Shame: "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘴. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘵𝘺. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘧. 𝘞𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥… 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨."
The Author trembled.
Author: "I didn't know how else to survive."
Shame: "𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦."
The walls of his internal archive began to bleed stories.
Literally bleed them.
Paragraphs peeled off in streams of ink. Sentences collapsed. Characters screamed from behind the plaster, pounding for a way out.
This wasn't a mind.
It was a prison built from guilt.
And Shame had the keys now.
Auryne stepped forward.
Auryne: "Why didn't you erase it?"
Author: "Because I couldn't look at it long enough to find the command."
Syra: "That's because it's not your edit."
Auryne: "It's your reflection."
Shame: "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧."
Shame turned.
Faced Syra.
Spoke again—this time directly.
Shame: "𝘏𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴."
Syra (steady): "Yes."
Shame: "𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥."
Syra: "Which?"
Shame (pointing): "𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵. 𝘏𝘪𝘮."
The Key appeared in Syra's hand.
All seven words shimmered.
But this time—
It showed her something new.
A blinking glyph.
A question:
"Do you want to end his authorship?"
"YES | NO"
Author (panicking): "If you do this, the Archive will collapse."
Auryne: "No. It will restart."
Syra (quiet): "Or it will finally be honest."
She stared at the choice.
YES.
NO.
Behind her, thousands of stories whispered.
In front of her, Shame reached for her hand.
And beside her… the man who had created her voice now begged her not to use it.
Author (soft): "Please. I can fix it."
Syra: "No, you can't."
She pressed her finger to the glyph.
And whispered—
Syra: "Forget."
The Author disappeared.
Not in fire.
Not in screams.
In silence.
As if he had never written anything at all.
The walls shattered.
The voices were free.
And Shame turned to her.
Spoke one final time.
Shame: "𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨."
And vanished.
Syra stood in the hollow.
No more Author.
No more prisons.
Only a broken Archive…
…and the chance to rewrite it.
Together.
End of Chapter 31 – Shame Has a Voice