[UPLOADING… 32%] [Initiating Sequence: Simulated Origin Protocol]
He opened his eyes to light.
Not static. Not simulation.
Sunlight.
Real.
Warm, fractured gold filtered through a cracked rooftop. Dust floated in slow, sacred motion. His body—leaner, younger, untouched by scars. He sat cross-legged in a forgotten room, holding a broken datapad in his lap, listening to her hum beside him.
She looked different here. Not stronger. Just whole.
"I told you I'd find a way to remember us," she said, without looking at him.
He tried to speak. The words caught in his throat like rusted wire.
[Sequence disruption detected.]
A high-pitched whine bled through the memory.
[WARNING: Unauthorized override in progress.]
Suddenly, her humming slowed. Her form pixelated—like a puppet losing its strings.
And the sunlight dimmed.
"They're pulling you out," she whispered, glitching.
"No. No, not yet."
His own voice—cracked, desperate.
[Host attempting resistance. External signal intercepting neural bridge.]
The world collapsed like crumpled paper. He screamed, not from pain, but from loss—the kind that slips between your fingers before you even know it's there.
He jolted upright.
Real time. Real space. Inside the pod. Glass fogged. Chest heaving.
Outside—a figure.
Someone was trying to open the pod.
A girl. Breathing heavy. Covered in ash and light.
Her.
Not a memory. Not a glitch. Real.
"Get up," she said, slamming her palm on the glass.
"Before it takes what's left of you."