Ravi's breath caught in his throat as he took an unsteady step forward. Rana stood before him, but something was wrong. His features were too still, his eyes devoid of their usual fire. "Rana… is it really you?" The figure tilted its head, the movement unnervingly slow. "Who else would I be?" The words were familiar, but the voice carried an echo, as if spoken by more than one person. Meera whispered urgently, "That's not him. Not fully." Aarav clenched his fists. "Then what is he?" The Archivist stepped forward, their silver mask glinting. "A memory… twisted into something else."
Rana's figure flickered for a brief moment, like ink bleeding into water. His smile never wavered. "You forgot me," he said softly, his tone almost gentle. "But I didn't forget you." Ravi shook his head. "That's not true. We never forgot you." The shadows in the chamber darkened. "Then why did I end up here?" The question carried a weight that pressed against their chests. Raj's voice wavered. "We searched for you. We never stopped." Rana's eyes narrowed. "You searched too late." His form blurred, and for a split second, his body distorted into something monstrous before stabilizing.
Vihan gritted his teeth. "He's been corrupted." The Archivist nodded. "A memory left to rot becomes something… dangerous." Rana's gaze snapped to them. "I am not rotten," he hissed. The walls of the chamber shuddered. "I am forgotten. There's a difference." His voice was sharper now, the echoes behind it louder. The shadows around him twisted, merging into the inky darkness of his form. "But now… you remember me. And that changes everything." Ravi felt the weight of Rana's words settle in his chest. "What do you want?" The figure took another step closer, his expression unreadable. "To finish what was started."
The Archivist lifted a glowing book from the shelves. "His record is incomplete," they murmured, flipping through its shifting pages. "Something—someone—interfered with his fate." Meera's pendant pulsed erratically. "That's why they tried to erase us," she realized. "Because we were the only ones who could bring him back." Rana's smile sharpened. "And now you have." The room darkened further, shadows creeping toward them like living tendrils. "But I am no longer the person you knew. And neither are you." His voice was layered now, as if countless voices spoke through him. "You are not my friends. You are my unfinished story."
The Archivist slammed the book shut, and the entire chamber quaked. "This memory is unstable. If we do not act, he will consume everything." Raj's hands trembled. "We can't fight him." Ravi looked at Rana, his heart aching. "We don't have to." He stepped forward, ignoring Meera's warning. "Rana, I know you're in there. You're not just… this." Rana's form flickered again, pain flashing across his face. "I… I don't know who I am anymore." His voice wavered, losing its monstrous edge. Aarav gritted his teeth. "Then let us remind you." He lifted the book with Rana's name on it.
The moment the book opened, the room shifted. The walls rippled like water, and suddenly, memories spilled out—fragments of laughter, whispered secrets, promises once made. Rana stumbled back, his form distorting between shadow and flesh. "Stop," he rasped, gripping his head. Ravi's voice cracked. "You were our friend. No matter what happened, you were never forgotten." The memories surged forward, wrapping around Rana like chains of light. He gasped, his body flickering. "I… I don't want to be this." Raj's voice was hoarse. "Then fight it. Come back to us." The shadows recoiled, as if resisting the change.
The Archivist raised a hand, and suddenly, the book burned with golden fire. "This is your choice," they said. "Remain as you are, or return to what was." Rana's form convulsed. "I… I don't know if I can." Meera stepped forward, voice firm. "Then let us help you." The chamber shook violently, as if rejecting their presence. The other erased figures in the darkness shrieked, clawing toward Rana. "They don't want me to leave," he whispered. Ravi grabbed his wrist. "Then we'll take you with us." The golden fire surged, and the shadows around Rana shattered into nothingness.
For a moment, everything was silent. Then Rana collapsed, his body no longer shifting between forms. He was solid. Real. His breathing was ragged, his eyes filled with something they hadn't seen in years—clarity. "Ravi?" he whispered, his voice small. Ravi nodded, his throat tight. "Yeah. We've got you." The Archivist lowered their hand, the golden fire fading. "It is done," they murmured. "But the story is not over." Vihan turned to them. "What do you mean?" The Archivist gestured to the shelves. "There are still pages unwritten. And forces that do not wish for them to be written at all."
Aarav looked down at the book in his hands. Rana's name was no longer fading. It was solid, whole. But something else was written beneath it—words that sent a chill through him. "The fractured shall seek the whole," he read aloud. The Archivist's silver mask glinted. "The ones who erased him will not let this stand. They will come for him. And for you." The chamber trembled one last time, the books humming with a warning. Ravi exhaled. "Then let them come." Rana, weak but alive, lifted his gaze. "Because this time… I won't let them take me."