The first memory
1085 Words
The pressure cracked him open two days later.
He was in the training yard, sparring with another guard. The clash of practice swords. The grunts of effort. The smell of sweat and dust.
His opponent lunged. Caius parried. The man’s sleeve ripped on his blade.
A flash.
Not a training yard. A dark alley. The smell of garbage and blood. A man lunging with a real knife. Not a practice sword. Caius parried. The man’s sleeve ripped. He saw a tattoo on the man’s forearm. A coiled serpent. He drove his blade into the man’s stomach. The man gasped, his hot breath on Caius’s face. A voice behind him, Mara’s voice: “Clean shot. Move out.”
Caius stumbled back. The memory was not like a dream. It was real. It was solid. He could smell the alley.
“You okay, Sergeant?” the other guard asked, lowering his sword.
“Yes,” Caius gasped. “Just… dizzy.”
He left the yard. He walked fast, his heart pounding. The trigger was stress. The fight brought it back.
He needed to remember more. He needed to know everything.
He went to the only place he felt he could think: the Veridian Vault. It was empty at this hour. He sat on a bench by the petrified stream.
He closed his eyes. He focused on the feeling in the alley. The fear. The violence.
More pieces came. Not a movie. Just pieces.
Sitting in a dark room with Valerius. The Captain’s face was younger, softer. “The empire is rotting from the top,” Valerius said, pouring wine. “She is a symptom. A pretty, weak symptom. We must be the surgeons, Caius. We must cut out the sickness to save the body.”
A test. A live target. A prisoner tied to a post. A rifle in his hands. Valerius’s hand on his shoulder. “For the future.” He pulled the trigger. The memory had no sound. Just the kick of the rifle.
The first time he saw Selene. Not as a target. As a person. It was in this garden. She was reading a book. She laughed at something on the page. A real, bright laugh. The sound pinned him to the spot, hidden behind a tree. He picked a white rose from the bush she had just walked past. He felt a shame so deep it was like falling.
The memories were like knives, twisting in his gut. He was a murderer. A fanatic. He had killed for Valerius. He had believed in Echo.
“Sergeant?”
He jerked his eyes open. Selene stood there, wrapped in a grey shawl. She looked at his face. “You’re crying.”
He touched his cheek. It was wet. He hadn’t even noticed.
“I remember,” he choked out. “I remember what I did.”
She sat next to him on the bench. Not too close. But close enough. “Tell me.”
And he did. In simple, horrible words. He told her about the alley. The prisoner. The dark room with Valerius. The rose. He did not look at her. He stared at the stream.
When he finished, the silence was heavy. He waited for her to call the guards. To have him arrested.
“The man in the alley,” she said quietly. “With the serpent tattoo. He was a known killer-for-hire. He murdered two of my tax collectors the week before. The records say he was killed in a gang fight.” She took a slow breath. “The prisoner you shot. He was convicted of burning a village of loyalists. He was scheduled for execution that week.”
Caius finally looked at her. “You are… justifying what I did?”
“No,” she said, her stormy eyes fierce. “I am telling you that Valerius used you. He gave you real monsters, so you would feel like a hero. So you would believe in the cause. He was building his perfect weapon, one righteous kill at a time.”
She understood. She saw the manipulation.
“It doesn’t change what I am,” he said.
“It changes everything!” she insisted, her voice a passionate whisper. “He made you. The blast unmade you. And now you have a choice. You are not that weapon anymore. Unless you choose to be.”
She believed in him. More than he believed in himself.
“The festival…” he started.
“Will be a trap,” she finished. “For both of us. Valerius will use it to kill me. And to blame you.” She leaned closer. Her scent surrounded him. “We must turn his trap against him. We need proof. Something that links him to Echo, to the plot. Something we can show to the loyal guards.”
“Mara,” Caius said. “The Ghost. She was my contact. She is turning against Valerius. She might have proof.”
“Find her,” Selene said. “But be careful. Valerius will be watching you.”
As if on cue, the garden door clanged. Footsteps on the gravel path.
They stood up quickly, putting distance between them.
Captain Valerius rounded the bend, with Kaelen behind him. Valerius’s eyes took in the scene: Caius’s raw face, Selene’s close proximity.
“Imperatrix,” Valerius said, bowing. His voice was smooth. “Your security detail was concerned. You should not be alone.” His eyes flicked to Caius. “Sergeant, you look unwell. Report to the medic.”
“It’s nothing, Captain,” Caius said, straightening his uniform. “The heat.”
“I asked him about the security for my private garden balcony,” Selene said, her voice cool and imperial. “He was just leaving. Do not trouble yourself, Captain.”
It was a dismissal. A brilliant, brave lie.
Valerius bowed again, his face unreadable. “Of course. Come, Kaelen. Let us check the perimeter.”
As they walked away, Kaelen glanced back at Caius. There was no emotion. Just a flat, professional assessment.
Caius looked at Selene one last time. A silent message passed between them.
The game is on.
We are allies now.
And the walls have ears.
He left the garden, the memory of her belief warming the cold pit of his past. He had a mission. Find Mara. Get proof.
He
was no longer an empty man. He was a man with two pasts, and a desperate future to fight for.
- Writer
