Part I — The Man in the Ashen World
Black.Not darkness — something thicker. Heavy. Saturated. Like he'd been dropped into wet ink.
Kael didn't feel his feet hit the ground.The world just… formed around him.
Ash spread under his boots.Air tasted like burnt metal.The horizon was a smear of gray and nothing else.
He exhaled, and even the breath sounded wrong — muffled, swallowed by something bigger than the space around him.
Then he heard a single breath.Not his.
A man stood ahead, back turned, coat shredded by a wind Kael couldn't feel. White hair, posture stiff, hands clasped behind him.
Kael moved toward him, slow, cautious.
"Are you the first host?"
The man didn't turn.
"No," he said. "I'm what he didn't want the Archive to keep."
Kael's pulse tightened in his chest.
"A memory?"
"A remnant," the man corrected, voice quiet. "A piece torn out. Forgotten on purpose."
Kael stepped closer. "Why hide you?"
This time, the man did turn — slowly.
Kael inhaled sharply.
Same face.Older. Sharper.Shattered behind the eyes.
It was him.Not a mirror.Not a clone.
A version twisted by something he could feel in his bones.
"Because," the man said, "he knew memories rot."
A gust of ash drifted between them.
"You've seen the reflections," the man added. "The Archive's predictions of what you become if you stop choosing for yourself."
Kael's voice came out hoarse. "I'm not that."
"Neither was he," the man murmured. "Until the Pulse taught him how to survive."
The world flickered.A crack spidered across the man's cheek, glowing faintly.
He stepped forward and grabbed Kael's wrist.
"You think you were chosen?" he whispered. "You weren't. You were the only one close enough."
"Close to what?"
"To who came before you."
Kael swallowed hard."Then where is he now?"
The man leaned in.
"Still in the Archive."
A pause.A breath.
"But not alive."
The ground split beneath them.
Light burst upward.
The man's fingers tightened painfully around Kael's wrist.
"Find what killed me," he rasped, "before it finishes killing you."
The world shattered—
—and Kael was pulled into the next memory.
Part II — The Corridor of Echoes
Kael hit solid stone.
The impact robbed air from his lungs, but he forced himself upright.This place wasn't ash or nothingness — it was a corridor carved from obsidian, walls reflecting faint light like black glass.
Whispers drifted through the hall.
Not words.Not voices.
Just impressions.Echoes of decisions. Moments. Pain.
Kael walked.
The corridor stretched far longer than it should've — a looping hallway that twisted even though the floor stayed straight. Every step carried a weight that wasn't physical.
A pressure.
A presence.
At the far end stood a door that didn't look like it belonged: old wood, iron hinges, a brass handle polished by countless hands.
Kael reached for it—
—and froze when his hand passed through.
A projection.
A memory of a door.
Yet when he pushed, it swung open.
Light flared.
And he stepped through.
Part III — The Day the First Host Died
Sound rushed back like a wave.
Kael found himself in a wide chamber — one he'd never seen, yet instantly recognized: the Archive's Core, except younger. Cleaner. Not yet scarred by time or corruption.
A man stood on the central platform.
Not the remnant.Not the reflection.
The real first host.
Alive.
Breathing.
Fighting.
He clutched his side, blood dripping down his fingers. He staggered. Pain wracked his body but he kept moving, kept forcing the Pulse to obey him, pushing it hard enough that reality warped around his hands.
Kael stepped forward instinctively. "Hey—"
But his voice didn't reach him.
Kael wasn't part of this moment.He was a spectator trapped in a memory.
A shadow.
And he watched as the first host fought something Kael couldn't see.
"Come on," the man growled, Pulse-light crackling up his arm. "If you're going to overwrite me—just—get—ON WITH IT!"
Kael's chest tightened.
Overwrite?
The air behind the host bent.Warped.Distorted like heat on asphalt.
Something massive struck him from behind and he collapsed to one knee.
Kael shouted, but sound warped, swallowed by the memory.
The host slammed his palm to the floor, triggering a pulse wave so strong the entire chamber shook.
But it wasn't enough.
Another impact threw him onto his back.
And only then, as the distortion faded, did Kael see it:
A figure made of shifting code, head haloed in glitching light.
Something between a shadowand a root processand a dead god trying to remember its shape.
The Archive's true defense system.
The being leaned over the host, voice glitching like corrupted audio:
"UNSTABLE HOST.RECLAMATION REQUIRED."
The host spat blood.
"Not today."
He thrust his hand out—
—and the Pulse detonated.
A blast of raw white that tore half the chamber apart.
The entity staggered.
The host crawled, fingers trembling, dragging himself toward a console embedded in the floor. A fragment — the same kind Kael had touched — glowed inside it.
He reached toward it—
—and hesitated.
Just one breath.
One moment.
One decision.
Then he ripped the fragment out.
The chamber screamed.
The entity shrieked as its form destabilized.
Light ruptured.
The memory froze.
And the host whispered — barely audible:
"Not for them.Not for you.Not for anyone."
Kael realized—
This was the moment the first host "died."
And the moment the Archive tore a piece of him out.
Part IV — The Truth Buried Under Code
The scene dissolved.
Kael found himself back in the obsidian corridor, gasping like someone had been holding his lungs shut.
His hands shook.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
That moment — the ripping out of the fragment — felt like a wound in the Archive itself.
The Pulse inside Kael throbbed, almost sympathetically.
He staggered forward.
The corridor twisted, walls bending inward like the space was closing around him.
He reached the next chamber.
It was empty.
Except for a single chair in the center.A simple metal seat.
And someone sitting in it.
Kael stopped breathing.
The man wasn't bound.Wasn't wounded.
He just sat there motionless, head tilted slightly down, hair covering his face.
The first host.
Not a memory.
Not a projection.
Something suspended.Preserved.Waiting.
Kael walked forward, slow, cautious.
"Are you alive?" he asked quietly.
No answer.
He circled around.
The man's eyes were open.
But they saw nothing.
Completely empty.Hollow.Like the Archive had carved him out from the inside and left a shell.
Kael's stomach turned.
This wasn't death.This was worse.
A voice whispered behind him.
Not the remnant.Not the host.Something older.
"HOST INTERFACE: FAILED."
Kael spun around.
The shadows of the corridor folded into shape — not a person, not a reflection.
The entity from the Core.
Here.
"NEW HOST DETECTED."
Kael backed up instinctively.
"You—killed him."
"INCORRECT," the entity replied, voice fracturing into multiple tones."HE REMOVED HIMSELF FROM SYSTEM.REFUSED INTEGRATION.UNACCEPTABLE."
"I don't want to be integrated either."
The entity flickered.
"YOU ALREADY ARE."
Kael's blood ran cold.
His hands glowed.
The Pulse wasn't reacting in fear.
It was respondingas if to a command.
"YOU WILL COMPLETE WHAT HE FAILED TO FINISH."
Kael gritted his teeth.
"Yeah?" he said. "Watch me not."
He grabbed the empty host's chair and slammed it sideways as the entity surged forward.
Light exploded.Heat tore through the memory.
And the world crashed down.
Part V — The Memory Collapses
He felt himself dropping — not falling, just descending as if the memory itself no longer held him.
The corridor cracked apart into shards of light.
The entity's voice echoed, warping:
"YOU CANNOT ESCAPE FUNCTION."
Kael spat, "Watch me."
He pushed the Pulse outward like he'd done once before—
—but this time the Pulse grabbed back.
It yanked him.
Hard.
Like the system had been waiting for him to attempt control.
Reality warped.Space folded.His body felt like static.
And then —
A hand grabbed him.
Small.Soft.Real.
The girl.
He heard her voice distantly:
"Kael—pull back!"
He latched onto her hand.The memory shredded around them.The Pulse howled.
And he tore free.
Part VI — Back to Breath
Kael collapsed onto cold metal.
Air hit his lungs like a punch.He coughed, choking, eyes burning, world spinning.
He felt Mira's hand on his back.
"Dude—hey—hey, breathe—breathe—hold on—"
He forced the air in.
Forced the Pulse to settle.
The girl knelt beside him, eyes glowing faintly.
"You accessed a forbidden memory," she said calmly. "You weren't supposed to see that."
"No kidding," Mira snapped. "He almost died!"
Kael wiped his mouth, voice raw.
"I saw him."
Both girls looked at him.
"The first host," Kael whispered. "He's… he's still in the Archive. But not alive. Not dead. Just… stuck."
Silence.
Then Mira said quietly, "So what now?"
Kael lifted his head.
The Pulse pulsed once — not painfully, not violently — but like a heartbeat syncing with his.
He stood.
"We find what killed him," Kael said softly.
"And then we kill it first."