The journal trembled against her. It was no longer just a collection of memories.
It was a weapon. A seed of truth in a world built on lies.
And now, the countdown had begun.
---
The next morning, Elya did not get up right away. She lay there, eyes fixed on the ceiling, listening to the dull buzzing of her EMOTRACK still immersed in the glass of ice water. Her body felt numb, but her mind was boiling. The images from the night before looped endlessly, etched under her skin.
Something had changed. A new tension. A brutal clarity.
She now understood: this world was not only based on control, but on a lie so deep it shaped even the collective memory.
That day, she left the house earlier than usual. She needed to revisit the places. She needed to understand.
But upon arrival, the academy was spotless. Too spotless.
The central courtyard, the scene of horror, seemed never to have been touched. The ground was smooth, without a single crack. The windows had been replaced, the walls repainted. There were no ashes, no shards of glass, no smell of burning. Not even a trace of blood.
Everything had been cleaned. Masked. Erased.
But the missing people were very real.
Eighteen students. Eighteen disappeared, wiped from the landscape as if they had never existed. And no one talked about it.
The crowd trickled in little by little, chatting, calm. Faces showed a cold neutrality. In the corridors, a few glances were exchanged, but all seemed hollow, extinguished. Tamed.
Elya moved forward, stunned. A phrase kept looping in her mind:
"How can they act like nothing happened? So easily? People died, after all."
Lost in thought, she randomly turned into a deserted corridor. That's when she noticed a door slightly ajar. One detail struck her: she did not remember ever seeing it before.
Driven by impulse, she approached quietly and peeked inside.
Aedan. He was there, standing, tense face, deep in a secret conversation with a stranger projected as a hologram. The words were indistinct, but the gestures betrayed the gravity of the exchange. It was… strange. He was no longer the same. Less polished. More human.
Suddenly, in a tense moment, Elya stumbled against a small metal piece of furniture. A sharp noise echoed.
Aedan froze instantly, the hologram fading in a faint light. He turned around quickly, his gaze sharp.
But Elya had already slipped away, heart pounding, melted into the corridor's shadow before he could see her.
Back in the classroom, she sat at her seat, trying to slow her breathing. Her fingers still trembled.
A few minutes later, Aedan entered.
He seemed like himself. Calm, impassive, measured steps.
But when he looked up, his eyes met Elya's. A moment too long. One beat more than necessary.
He was looking at her.
Not like before.
His gaze stopped. There was a hesitation, almost imperceptible. A hint of suspicion.
Then, as if nothing happened, he looked away and took his place.
Elya felt a shiver run down her spine.
She no longer knew what to think.
Was Aedan really what he seemed: a model student, cold and loyal to the system?
Or did he represent something even more dangerous?
The bell rang, cutting off the whirlwind of thoughts. The class started, dull, suffocated by the general indifference. Elya tried to concentrate, but her eyes kept drifting back to Aedan. He remained impassive, as if nothing happened. But she knew he noticed her gaze. That he knew. Maybe even that he guessed.
During the break, she hurried out of the room, as if fleeing an invisible trap.
— You don't look very well, murmured a voice right behind her.
Elya spun around suddenly.
A girl was leaning against the wall, a calm expression on her face. She had thick braids falling on her shoulders, dark and glowing skin, eyes of an almost unreal green. She wore the academy uniform, but there was something in her stance… something free.
— Are you… new? asked Elya, slightly defensive.
The girl smiled slightly.
— You see me when you're ready to see me.
Elya raised an eyebrow. That answer made no sense. Or too much sense.
— Have you been watching me for a long time? she asked, wary.
— You ask the right questions. That's a start.
Elya frowned. She should have walked away, ignored this stranger. But something held her back. Her presence had the same strange vibration as the journal. As if she carried inside a truth one could not yet grasp.
— Do you have a name? Elya insisted.
— Naël, she replied without hesitation. And you, Elya, you have a choice to make.
Before she could answer, Naël had already turned on her heels. She walked away calmly, as if she knew the corridors better than anyone else. As if she feared nothing.
Elya stood still for a moment. But didn't pay much more attention to her.
She didn't know it yet, but Naël had just laid the first thread of a web far larger than she had imagined.
The day went on without incident. Teachers spoke, students took notes or pretended to, and Elya just watched. Every movement of Aedan, every exchanged look in the corridors, every too-perfect silence filled her with a creeping unease. But she made a decision: to silence her suspicions, ignore the chills on her neck, and hide the journal. She wanted to regain her calm from before, to no longer be in Aedan's crosshairs.
For several weeks, everything returned to calm. Almost too calm.
Elya blended into the crowd. She no longer opened the journal, no longer asked questions. She even sometimes smiled. A fabricated, fragile normality. But she knew. She knew it was an illusionary calm.
And then, one morning, without warning, the ground seemed to tilt.
Classes had barely begun. The harsh light filtered through the freshly replaced windows, casting shadows too straight to be honest.
The classroom door slammed open.
Four members of a patrol in black uniform entered the room, neutral faces, programmed gestures. They didn't say a word to the teacher. They went straight to Elya.
— Stand up, said one of them in a mechanical voice.
Elya's heart raced.
— What's happening?! she asked, panicked, her voice breaking the tense silence.
No answer.
She looked around, hoping for a reaction. A word. A protest.
Nothing.
Her classmates remained seated, frozen, as if hypnotized. Their eyes followed the scene, empty, disengaged. Even Aedan stayed silent, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the board.
Elya felt a cold heat run down her neck.
She was taken away without another word.
The corridors passed by, then the stairs. Finally, she was pushed into one of the official cars parked in front of the academy. Barely seated, the doors locked with a sinister click.
She broke down in tears, her body trembling.
— Did they find the journal?… Has anyone spoken?…
Chaotic thoughts raced through her head, clashing like shards of glass. She knew this moment would come. But not so soon. Not like this.
The car was driving fast. Too fast.
Then, without warning, an explosion rang out outside. A violent shockwave shook the entire cabin.
— BOOM!
The two lead vehicles of the convoy were blown away by the detonation. A wall of fire rose just a few meters away. The car carrying Elya braked hard. The driver shouted something into his earpiece.
Then gunfire erupted. Sharp, precise. Not warning shots.
— Is… this an attack?!
The doors flung open abruptly. One of the patrollers stepped out, weapon raised. Elya pressed herself against the seat, breath short.
Chaos intensified outside: screams, breaking glass, hurried footsteps. Then figures appeared from the smoke.
Men. In dark balaclavas, faces hidden. One of them opened the rear door. His eyes, barely visible through the fabric slit, met Elya's.
— We don't have much time, he said quickly.
He grabbed her arm, and before she could protest, she was pulled out of the car.
Behind them, other patrol members shouted orders. But it was too late.
The strangers were fast, organized. Within seconds, Elya was escorted away from the convoy, through a side alley, to another unmarked car parked discreetly.
A firm hand pushed her inside.
The car sped off.
Sitting, trembling, still in shock, Elya tried to ask a question. But no words came out.
The silence in the car was almost religious. The masked man sitting next to her slowly turned his head toward her.
— You are more important than you think, Elya, he said, his voice deep, calm.
She stared at him, stunned.
— The Réminiscents need you.
At the back, in a remote location, stood a huge building with metal walls, angular architecture. Around it, small annex centers perfectly organized formed a silent and monitored network.
A man in a red uniform stepped forward hesitantly, head bowed.
— Sir… we lost her, he said in a tense voice.
The superior, motionless facing a holographic screen, slowly turned around.
— How could a barely eighteen-year-old girl escape you? he asked coldly.
— Th… these are the Réminiscents, sir. They ambushed us. We didn't think they knew of her existence…
The superior's gaze darkened.
— Don't try to justify your incompetence. You underestimated the enemy, once again.
He paused coldly, then added sharply:
— Get out. And don't come back until you find her.
The man bowed quickly, then left the room silently.
---