#Threads of the Forgotten
#007
Asher Vale stood in the dim glow of his apartment, the soul capsule Eden had discovered cradled in his palm. Its faint pulsing resembled a fading heartbeat lost beneath layers of static.
He hadn't slept. He couldn't. Not after what he'd seen in that pulse.
A child. A city. A voice whispering, "You were there. Before the first Bliss."
He didn't fully understand. Not yet.
But something was shifting.
Eden leaned against the window frame, sipping her cheap synth-coffee. "That capsule—it's not reacting to Bliss. It's reacting to an anchor. It's syncing with you."
"I know," Asher replied softly. "That's not supposed to happen."
"Unless," she said carefully, "you've been connected to this longer than you realize."
Asher's eyes met hers. "You think someone's tampered with my memory?"
"I think Bliss isn't just a product. It's a weapon. And you're more than a Soul Auctioneer. You're a survivor."
Silence fell over the room.
Eden tossed a datapad onto the table. "I traced the ID of the girl who dropped the capsule. Her name was Saya Elion. Elion's sister."
Asher inhaled sharply. "He never said anything about her."
"That's because she was erased. No records past age eleven. No ID, no school files, no medical data. Just one blurry photo from a Syndicate lab labeled 'Neuro-Mirror Testing Unit.'"
Asher picked up the datapad, his heart pounding. The girl's eyes looked eerily familiar.
"I've seen her," he murmured. "Not in the capsule. Before. Somewhere I can't quite remember."
"Because the memory's not gone, Asher. It's buried."
He looked up abruptly. "What are you saying?"
Eden hesitated. "There's a tech we stopped using long ago. Banned after the riots. Deeptrace. It lets you trace a memory thread—not just see it. You live it. Become the person it came from."
"It's unstable. Illegal. If the memory's too traumatic—"
"You die," she said, finishing his sentence. "But if you don't use it, we'll never uncover the truth."
Asher gazed at the capsule again. It responded to his touch, pulsing in sync.
What he felt wasn't fear or darkness. It was a pull. Like someone reaching out from the fog.
"Why me?" he whispered. "Why would she leave this for me to find?"
Eden didn't reply.
Instead, she stepped closer, reached into her coat, and pulled out another capsule—this one cracked and cold.
"I found it outside my old apartment. Last week. I didn't tell you because I thought it was just a glitch. But…" She set it beside his.
The capsules pulsed together.
Asher's heartbeat quickened. "What if we were all part of something?" he whispered. "Me. You. Elion. Saya. What if we weren't just observers—but subjects?"
Eden's voice was barely audible. "Then someone made sure we'd forget."
Asher stepped back. "And now someone—or something—wants us to remember."
The capsules flared once, then dimmed.
It wasn't the end.
It was only the beginning.