⭐ CHAPTER 13 — “INSIDE THE MOMENT”
1026 Words
The fracture swallowed them whole.
There was no sensation of movement—just a shift in temperature and a pressure drop so sudden that Riven’s ears rang. The light vanished, replaced by a dim, cold glow that seemed to radiate from nowhere and everywhere at once.
When the blur cleared, they stood inside a corridor.
Or something trying to become one.
Walls stretched out of alignment, smoothing into place as though memory sculpted them in real time. Floor tiles flickered between states—intact, cracked, missing—until the reconstruction decided which version to keep.
“It’s stabilizing,” Riven whispered.
Calyx swept the perimeter. “This is… cleaner than the last one. Sharper.”
Idris pressed a hand to the wall. “Because this is the moment right before everything happened. This one is stronger.”
He said it with a trembling certainty that made Riven’s skin tighten.
THE MEMORY BREATHES
The air shifted.
A long metallic groan echoed through the corridor—low, slow, rising in pitch like a blade being drawn across tensioned steel.
The half-ring entity.
It wasn’t visible yet, but it was present. The memory hadn’t reconstructed its body, only its echo.
Calyx raised his weapon. “Stay close. Do not run.”
Riven nodded, though he doubted running would matter in a place built from the residue of someone else’s trauma.
They moved forward slowly.
A thin fog clung to the ground—not moisture, but something finer, like dust from corrupted frames drifting loose. It curled away from their boots, reforming as if tethered to an invisible template.
“This fog…” Idris whispered. “It’s hiding people.”
“What people?” Calyx asked.
“The ones who were here that day. The ones the anomaly can’t fully reconstruct.”
Riven crouched.
The fog parted slightly, revealing impressions in the floor. Not dents—footsteps. Human. Deep. Rushed. Three sets. Maybe four.
None matched their size.
“There was a team here,” Riven said. “Not just Hale.”
“Where are they?” Idris whispered.
Riven looked around at the collapsing fog.
“They’re gone. Redacted.”
THE CONSOLE BETWEEN FRAMES
A console appeared at the corridor’s midpoint—blinking into existence like a skipped frame.
At first it was shattered, sparks frozen midair. Then, without transition, it was intact, humming faintly.
Riven approached carefully.
“It’s stuck between states,” he murmured. “The memory can’t decide which version is true.”
Calyx leaned over his shoulder. “Can you stabilize it?”
“Maybe. If I understand the pattern.”
The console flickered. A message surfaced:
INTERLOCK // RECALL // KEY: HALE
Riven stared at the last part.
“That’s the identifier from Chapter 12,” he said quietly.
Calyx exhaled. “This is personal.”
Idris stepped back, eyes darting to the fog behind them. “Something’s moving.”
THE HALE SILHOUETTE
A figure flickered into existence ten meters ahead.
Not fully formed—just a blur of limbs, a torso too thin, proportions wrong in a way more anatomical than digital. The fog parted around it as if the memory wanted desperately to give it shape but lacked permission.
A name tag glowed faintly on its chest.
Hale
Riven’s breath caught in his throat.
The silhouette stood with the same tilt of head he had when examining a broken panel. The same posture when deep in thought. The same height. The same build.
Calyx whispered, “Riven… it looks like—”
“I know.”
Idris covered his mouth.
The silhouette twitched—shifted—faced them.
For half a second, the reconstruction sharpened:
A man.
Dark hair.
Tired eyes.
A face not identical to Riven’s…
…but close enough to feel like a reflection from another life.
The memory split again, tearing him back into blur.
IDRIS REMEMBERS WHAT WAS ERASED
Idris gasped suddenly.
“I remember this part,” he said. “I wasn’t here, but I—someone—someone shouted this in the fragment.”
He inhaled sharply, then recited:
“Close it before it stabilizes—!”
The words hung in the air.
The silhouette jerked violently, mirroring the remembered line.
Riven placed a hand on Idris’s shoulder. “That’s not your memory. It’s the memory trying to use you.”
Idris shivered. “I know. That’s what scares me.”
THE ENTITY APPROACHES
The metallic groan returned.
Louder.
Closer.
A curved shadow sliced across the far wall—long, elegant, wrong. It didn’t move like an animal or machine, but like a pendulum searching for rhythm.
Calyx pulled Idris back. “Stay behind us.”
Riven’s heart hammered as he turned to the console.
The message changed.
RECALL KEY REQUIRED
IDENTIFIER—HALE ACTIVE
“Riven,” Calyx said quietly. “It wants you to stabilize it.”
Riven placed his palm on the console.
It warmed instantly.
Light rippled through the corridor. Details snapped into place: cables overhead, an overturned toolbox, the smear of colorless blood on the wall.
And then—
Hale appeared again.
This time clearer. Enough that his mouth formed a syllable.
“It wasn’t supposed to—”
Static swallowed the rest.
“Hale!” Riven shouted before he could stop himself.
The silhouette turned.
For the briefest instant, their eyes met.
Not like a replay.
Not like a ghost.
Like recognition.
And then the entity’s shadow dragged across the wall, and the memory ruptured.
THE COLLAPSE
The floor shook. The fog shredded into white static. The ceiling pixelated, struggling to hold the moment together.
Calyx grabbed Riven’s arm. “We have to go—now!”
A c***k opened behind them—another exit.
The console screamed a final message:
THE POINT IS NOT THE BEGINNING
Idris staggered. “What does that mean?”
Riven looked back at Hale’s dissolving silhouette.
“It means what happened at 00:17:43 wasn’t the start of the event.”
Calyx pushed them toward the exit. “Then the real beginning is ahead.”
The memory imploded.
Light surged.
They jumped through the fracture—
And the corridor behind them ceased to exist.
- Writer
