Chapter 1: The Memory Merchant
The city of Aethelgard did not run on electricity or coal; it ran on the fragments of human lives. Here, memories were the only currency that didn't lose value. If you wanted a warm meal, you sold the memory of your tenth birthday. If you wanted a mansion, you sold the memory of your first love. Once sold, the memory vanished from your mind forever, stored in glowing crystals within the high walls of the Soul-Bank.
I, Kaelen, was a scavenger. But I didn't hunt for gold. I hunted for the "Leaked Echoes"—the memories that were too dark or too broken for the Bank to accept.
"Another day in the gutter," I muttered, adjusting my hood as I stepped into the Neon District. The air smelled of ozone and forgotten tears.
I walked toward a small, dimly lit shop at the end of the alley. A sign hung crookedly: 'The Echo Exchange.' This was my workplace. My boss, a man with mechanical eyes, looked up as I entered.
"Kaelen, you're late. A customer is waiting in the back. She has something... unusual," he whispered, his eyes whirring.
I stepped into the back room. A young woman sat there, trembling. She looked wealthy, yet her eyes were hollow. She held a crystal that pulsed with a sickening, violet light.
"I want to sell this," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "The Bank refused it. They said it's cursed."
I took the crystal. The moment my skin touched the glass, my world tilted. Usually, I could see a flash of the memory—a face, a place, a feeling. But this? This was a void. It was a memory of someone who didn't exist, doing something that shouldn't be possible. I saw a man standing in the middle of a sun that didn't burn, holding a key made of human shadows.
My heart hammered against my ribs. This wasn't just a memory; it was a blueprint. A blueprint for a war that had already been forgotten by history.
"Where did you get this?" I demanded, my voice cracking.
"I found it in my father's safe," she cried. "He's a High Councilor. Please, just take the pain away. I can't stop seeing the shadow-man in my dreams."
I realized then that this woman hadn't sold her memory. Someone had planted this memory inside her. In a world where you are what you remember, someone was trying to turn her into a ghost.
"I can't buy this," I said, tucking the crystal into my inner pocket. "But I can keep it. If you stay here, they will find you."
Suddenly, the front door of the shop exploded. Black-clad enforcers from the Soul-Bank stormed in, their silver batons humming with energy.
"Hand over the Violet Echo, Scavenger!" the leader barked.
I looked at the girl, then at the back exit. I had no weapons, no money, and no army. All I had was a stolen memory of a sun that wouldn't burn.
If the memory is a blueprint, I thought, maybe I can use it.
I closed my eyes and reached deep into the violet crystal, not just watching the memory, but trying to become it. The temperature in the room dropped. The shadows beneath the enforcers' feet began to twitch, rising like dark ink.
"What are you doing?" the leader screamed, stepping back.
I opened my eyes, and for the first time in my life, I felt the power of a soul that wasn't mine. "I'm remembering how to fight," I whispered.
Chapter 2: The Shadow's Awakening
The room erupted into chaos. The shadows I had summoned didn't just move; they breathed. They were like liquid darkness, wrapping around the enforcers' legs and pulling them toward the floor. The leader of the Soul-Bank squad tried to swing his silver baton, but the air around me had grown thick, as if the memory was protecting its new host.
"He's a Siphon!" one of the guards screamed, his voice muffled as a shadow tendril covered his mouth. "Call for backup! Get the High Inquisitor!"
I didn't wait to see what a High Inquisitor could do. I grabbed the girl's hand—her name was Elara, I'd seen it etched on her expensive bracelet—and pulled her toward the back alley.
"Run! Don't look back!" I yelled.
We sprinted through the rain-slicked streets of the Neon District. Behind us, the blue and red lights of the Soul-Bank drones began to swarm the sky. My chest burned. I wasn't a hero; I was a scavenger who had just declared war on the most powerful organization in the world.
We ducked into an abandoned subway tunnel, the smell of damp earth and rust filling my lungs. Only when the sound of the drones faded did I stop, leaning against a cold stone wall. My hands were still glowing with a faint violet hue.
"Why?" Elara gasped, clutching her side. "Why did you help me? You could have just given them the crystal and walked away with a fortune."
I looked at the violet crystal in my hand. It was dimming now, but the power it had shared with me was still humming in my veins. "Because this isn't a memory of the past, Elara. It's a memory of a future that hasn't happened yet. If they get this, they won't just own our pasts anymore. They'll own our destiny."
I closed my eyes for a second, and the vision returned. The man in the sun. The shadow key. But this time, I saw something more. I saw a map. A map of the 'Old World'—the part of the city that was buried five hundred feet below the neon lights.
"Your father didn't find this," I said, looking at her. "He stole it. And he stole it from the Vault of Forgotten Gods."
Elara's face went pale. "The Vault is a myth. No one has been down there for three centuries."
"It's not a myth anymore," I replied, standing up straight. The exhaustion was being replaced by a strange, cold clarity. "We have to go down there. If we can find the source of this memory, maybe I can find a way to give everyone back what they've lost."
Suddenly, a cold, metallic voice echoed through the tunnel.
"A noble thought, Scavenger. But the dead should stay forgotten."
I spun around. Standing at the tunnel entrance was a man dressed in white silk, his face hidden behind a mask made of polished bone. In his hand, he held a crystal far larger than mine—one that pulsed with the golden light of a thousand stolen childhoods.
The High Inquisitor had arrived. And he wasn't here to arrest us. He was here to erase us.
Chapter 3: The Price of Silence
The High Inquisitor didn't move, but the air around him began to vibrate with a low, humming sound. The golden crystal in his hand—the 'Sol-Heart'—lit up the dark tunnel with a blinding radiance. Unlike my violet shadow-memory, his power felt heavy, like the weight of a thousand eyes watching you at once.
"The Soul-Bank is order, Kaelen," the Inquisitor spoke, his voice like grinding metal. "We take the chaos of human emotions and turn them into stability. Without us, people would be driven mad by their own grief and regrets. We are not the villains; we are the anchors of this world."
I pushed Elara behind a rusted pillar. "Anchors? You're parasites. You don't just take the grief; you take the joy, the hope, and the dreams. You turn people into empty shells just so you can power your neon towers."
The Inquisitor raised his hand. A beam of concentrated golden light shot toward me. I reacted instinctively, thrusting the violet crystal forward. A shield of swirling shadows erupted from my palm, clashing with the golden beam. The impact sent a shockwave through the tunnel, cracking the stone walls.
"You are using a memory of the Forbidden Era," the Inquisitor hissed, his bone mask glowing. "That power was buried for a reason. It is the memory of the Great Erasure, the day humanity almost forgot how to be human."
I felt my knees buckle. Maintaining the shadow shield was draining my very life force. I could feel the coldness of the violet memory seeping into my bones, turning my blood to ice. But I couldn't stop. If I let go, Elara and I would be wiped from existence.
"Kaelen, look out!" Elara screamed.
From the shadows behind the Inquisitor, two more enforcers appeared, their silver batons crackling with electricity. They weren't aiming for me—they were aiming for the roof of the tunnel.
CRACK!
The ceiling groaned. They were trying to bury us alive.
"If we can't have the memory, no one will," the Inquisitor said coldly.
As the first few boulders began to fall, I realized I had to do something desperate. I didn't just need to use the memory; I had to release it. I turned to Elara. "Hold onto me and don't let go! Whatever you see, whatever you feel, don't let go of your own name!"
I crushed the violet crystal in my hand.
A scream that wasn't mine tore through the tunnel. It wasn't a sound of pain, but a sound of a thousand voices finally being heard. The violet light exploded, not outward, but upward, piercing through the layers of the city like a needle of dark light.
The falling rocks froze in mid-air. The Inquisitor's golden light was swallowed by the void. For a brief second, the entire city of Aethelgard went silent as everyone—from the richest councilor to the poorest beggar—felt a sudden, sharp memory of a sun that didn't burn.
When the light faded, the tunnel was empty. The Inquisitor and his men were gone, leaving only their bone masks behind. But the cost was high. The violet crystal was now nothing but dust in my hand, and my vision was beginning to blur.
"We have to go," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "The map... it's in my head now. The Vault is open."