Kael's apartment greeted him with the silence of a tomb. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing off the muffled roar of the city below. He stood still for a moment, back pressed against the cool metal, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. The place smelled faintly of dust and machine oil; he hadn't bothered to keep it warm or inviting. His home was a container for his body, nothing more.
He tossed his coat over a chair and set the case file from the café onto the table. The folder's presence was loud in the quiet room. He didn't open it again; not yet. His nerves were still tangled from the encounter with Elara, from the way her voice carried more conviction than she probably realized. He hated that it lingered in his head.
Kael drifted into the bathroom, flicking on the light. A fractured mirror hung above the sink, its cracks fanning out like frozen lightning. He had meant to replace it for months, but something about the broken glass fascinated him. It split his reflection into scattered shards, forcing him to see himself in fragments. His eyes, one higher than the other. His mouth, disjointed, ghosting into two faint smiles that weren't smiles at all.
Fragments in glass; fragments in memory.
He leaned forward, palms on the sink, staring at the uneven version of himself. The city had a way of breaking people into pieces; some sharp, some dull, all dangerous if you weren't careful. He thought of Elara's trembling hands wrapped around her coffee mug, of the way she spoke about her stolen memories as if describing an amputation.
The word echo circled in his mind, dragging shadows with it.
A knock at the door startled him. Sharp, deliberate. He stayed still for a heartbeat, hoping it would pass, but it came again. Kael exhaled, straightened, and walked back into the main room.
Through the peephole, he saw Elara. Her hair clung damply to her face, plastered by the drizzle outside. She clutched her coat tightly around her frame, the fabric too thin for the cold. He almost didn't open the door; letting her in meant entanglement. But something in the tension of her stance; something raw and unguarded, made him turn the lock.
Elara slipped inside quickly, as if the hallway itself were dangerous ground. She hovered by the door, dripping faintly onto the floor.
"You shouldn't be here," Kael muttered, moving past her toward the table. "Following me was one thing; showing up at my apartment is reckless."
"I didn't follow you," she said softly. Her eyes scanned the space, wary. "I… I didn't have anywhere else to go."
He almost told her to leave. It sat on his tongue, sharp and ready. But then she stepped closer, and the light from the cracked mirror caught her face. Her expression carried that same fractured quality; the look of someone pieced together wrong.
"Sit," he said, gesturing toward the chair. His voice lacked conviction, but she obeyed, sliding into the seat across from the folder he had dropped earlier.
She glanced at it, then back at him. "You looked into the file, didn't you?"
"Enough to know it's trouble," Kael replied. He pulled a second chair, sitting opposite her. The table between them felt like a line neither dared to cross. "And enough to know you left a lot out at the café."
Elara's lips pressed into a thin line. She tugged at her sleeves, stretching the fabric over her hands. "I didn't leave anything out," she said after a pause. "I just… I don't remember it all. The gaps aren't lies; they're holes."
Her voice cracked on the last word. Kael noticed how her shoulders curled in, as if she were folding herself smaller to avoid breaking further.
He tapped the folder. "These files mention a phrase. 'Project Oblivion.' Ring any bells?"
Elara's reaction was immediate; a flash of fear lit her eyes before she could bury it. "No," she whispered, but her denial was brittle.
Kael leaned back, studying her. "You're a terrible liar."
She didn't argue. Her gaze drifted toward the broken mirror in the bathroom, visible from the table. The fractured glass reflected a distorted slice of her profile. She stared at it as though searching for something buried there.
"When I dream," she began, voice low, "I see rooms I don't recognize. White walls, no windows. People in uniforms. I wake up and it's gone, but the fear lingers. Like… like I've left pieces of myself somewhere else."
Kael let the silence breathe between them. He recognized the signs; memory tampering left scars, even if you couldn't see them. Echoes of emotions with no origin.
"Elara," he said carefully, "memories don't just vanish. Someone took them. And whatever Project Oblivion is, it's tied to why you're missing pieces."
Her hands gripped the edge of the table. "And why you found me," she said, almost accusing.
He shook his head. "I didn't find you. You stumbled into me. And I should've walked away."
"But you didn't," she pressed. Her voice steadied, gaining an edge. "Why?"
Kael had no answer ready. He thought of the mirror again, the way it forced him to confront his broken reflection. Maybe she was another fragment, jagged but fitting into a picture he hadn't wanted to see.
Instead of replying, he rose and went to the kitchen counter. He poured water into two glasses, set one in front of her. She took it with a small nod, fingers brushing the rim like it might vanish.
"You need to tell me everything you know," he said finally.
"I told you," she replied, frustration seeping in. "I don't remember. But there's one thing I can't get rid of."
Her hand drifted to her temple. "A sound. Like… humming. It echoes in my head, right before I black out. It feels like a key; like if I could follow it, I'd unlock something."
Kael felt a chill crawl across his skin. The word echo again, burrowing deeper.
Before he could respond, the apartment lights flickered. A low hum filled the room, vibrating in the walls. Elara's glass rattled against the table. Kael's instincts flared; he stood quickly, scanning the corners.
The hum grew louder, almost identical to the one Elara had described. She clutched her head, eyes squeezing shut in pain.
Kael moved to her side, gripping her shoulder. "Elara! Stay with me."
Her breaths came sharp and ragged. The light overhead buzzed violently, then went dark. For a heartbeat, the room was drowned in blackness.
Then silence.
The hum cut out, leaving only Elara's shaky breathing. When the lights steadied again, Kael realized the mirror in the bathroom had cracked further, spiderwebs of glass splitting across the surface.
Elara lifted her head slowly, her face pale. "That sound," she whispered, "it's here too."
Kael's pulse thundered. Whoever had buried that echo in her mind wasn't finished. And now, his apartment wasn't safe.
He glanced at the broken mirror again. His reflection stared back in fragments, his own fear scattered among them. For the first time, he realized the glass wasn't just a flaw he'd grown used to; it was a warning.