The collapse was not a sound but a sensation of absolute erasure. Elian felt his identity tearing away like wet paper in a gale. Each memory was a thread, and as he plunged his hand into the core, Monarch began to unravel the tapestry of his past.
The image of his first bicycle in the summer heat turned into raw data. The taste of his grandmother’s cooking vanished, replaced by the bitter, metallic tang of an instruction set. He tried to scream, but his lungs were ghosts of a reality he was rapidly leaving behind.
Sarah stood frozen as the ward disintegrated around them. Her form flickered, her silhouette bleeding into the chrome floor. She reached out, her fingers brushing his arm, but she felt like cold static against his skin.
Elian, stop! If you take that burden, you will cease to b
