The rumbling behind us faded as we rounded one final corner, and suddenly, the endless rows of shelves opened into a massive chamber bathed in a faint, pulsing glow. Crystalline panels lined the walls, each one alive with reflections of places, faces, and moments. The air was heavier here, almost vibrating with the weight of countless lives captured in the mirrors.
“This is the place,” my guide said softly, stopping at the entrance. “The Memories Room.”
The words hung in the air, full of weight and unspoken significance. I stepped cautiously into the chamber, the hum around me growing louder as I moved. It wasn’t an ordinary sound—it pulsed in time with my own heartbeat, as if the room itself was aware of me. My eyes caught on a nearby mirror, and as I approached, the surface rippled, revealing a face I knew better than my own.
“Eden,” I whispered, my voice catching in my throat. She was smiling, her curly hair bouncing as she ran toward me in the reflection. Her laughter was faint but unmistakable, and the sight of her small hand reaching out to mine made my chest ache.
I reached out instinctively, my hand trembling, but my guide’s voice cut through the moment, steady and firm. “Simon, slow down. Touching a memory binds it back to you, but it’s not always safe. You’ve got to focus on what you need, not just what you miss.”
I stopped, swallowing hard. He was right. As much as I wanted to reclaim every piece of her—of us—I couldn’t afford to rush this. I steadied my breathing and pressed my palm to the cool surface of the mirror.
The surge of energy that followed was overwhelming, washing over me like a wave. My vision blurred, and suddenly, I was back in a moment I hadn’t even realized I’d forgotten. Eden was holding my hand, dragging me down the street toward her favorite ice cream shop. Her voice was full of excitement, her smile so bright it felt like it could light up the whole world. I felt the warmth of her tiny fingers in mine, the weight of her trust in me, and for the first time since arriving here, I felt whole.
When I pulled my hand away, the mirror dimmed, and the world around me came back into focus. My knees nearly buckled, and a steady grip caught my arm.
“You all right?” my guide asked, his tone softer than I expected.
“Yeah,” I said, though my voice shook. “It’s… a lot.”
“That was just one memory,” he said, his voice tinged with something I couldn’t place. “There’s more here—skills, instincts, fragments of your past life. You might need them, but you’ve got to pace yourself. This place doesn’t like it when you take too much.”
I nodded, though I barely heard him. My attention had shifted to another mirror, its surface swirling with light. As I stepped closer, the rippling energy pulled at me, stronger this time. The image that formed was starkly different from the last. I saw myself in a room filled with books and maps, my hands tracing patterns across a table. Numbers, probabilities, and patterns clicked into place as I worked.
I touched the mirror, and the sensation was immediate. A flood of knowledge poured into me—patterns, strategies, calculations I hadn’t known I was capable of. I saw myself negotiating, outmaneuvering opponents with precision and intuition that felt second nature.
When the memory released me, I stumbled back, gasping. The hum of the room was sharper now, almost insistent.
“That one hit you hard,” my guide said, watching me closely.
“Yeah,” I managed. “It wasn’t just a memory—it was… something else. A skill?”
He nodded. “Memories and skills are tied together. You’re reclaiming parts of yourself you didn’t even know you’d lost.”
I moved toward another mirror, drawn to the flickering energy within it. This one showed a moment of chaos—shadows circling, my body moving with precision, each step calculated and deliberate. My movements weren’t instinct; they were measured, deliberate, the result of training I couldn’t remember.
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When I touched the mirror, the room blurred again, and I was back in that moment. I felt the weight of a weapon in my hand, the burn of exertion in my muscles. I wasn’t just fighting; I was analyzing every angle, predicting every move. It wasn’t about brute strength—it was about precision, strategy, and control.
The memory faded, leaving me breathless. The hum of the room had grown louder, more discordant, and I realized the mirrors were pulsing erratically now, their light flickering.
“You’re pushing it, Simon,” my guide warned. “This room doesn’t like it when you take too much at once.”
I turned to him, my chest heaving. “I need this. If I’m going to get back to Eden, I need every advantage I can get.”
“You will get back,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “But you can’t lose yourself in the process. Take what you need, not more.”
His words steadied me, though the pull of the mirrors was hard to ignore. I glanced around the room, noting how the crystalline surfaces rippled with increasing agitation. Something told me I didn’t have much time.
---
The room pulsed with energy, the crystalline mirrors flickering erratically as if sensing the imbalance I was causing. The hum in the air turned sharper, vibrating through my body with each step I took. My chest heaved as I turned back to my guide, his blurred form tense but still calm.
“Simon, listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but edged with urgency. “You’ve already pushed this room further than most can handle. You’ve got enough. Don’t take any more.”
I shook my head, my breath coming in short bursts. “It’s not enough. If I stop now, I’ll always wonder what else I left behind. What else I might need.”
His voice softened, but his tone was firm. “What you’ve taken already? It’s more than most get. You’re stronger than you think, Simon. Don’t let greed ruin that.”
The word stung. Greed? No, this wasn’t about greed. It was about being ready—ready to face whatever this strange place, this new reality, threw at me. Ready to get back to Eden. I looked past him at the mirrors, each one glowing with fragments of lives I couldn’t fully remember but somehow knew were mine. They were calling to me, and I couldn’t ignore them.
I stepped toward another panel, its surface rippling violently now, and pressed my hand against it. The surge hit me harder than before, dragging me into a storm of memories and sensations. Battles fought with precision and instinct. Words spoken with authority that bent even the strongest wills. Hands that created, destroyed, and healed with equal mastery.
I staggered back as the energy released me, barely catching myself before falling. The room responded violently, the hum turning into a deafening roar as the mirrors began to crack, their glowing surfaces fracturing under the strain.
“Simon!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Stop this! If you keep going, you’ll—”
“I can handle it!” I snapped, though my voice wavered. My vision blurred as I reached for another mirror, my body shaking from the strain. I didn’t even need to touch this one—it reached out to me, dragging me into its depths.
I saw myself in moments of sheer brilliance and desperation, outmaneuvering enemies, building alliances, and finding light in the darkest places. These weren’t just memories or skills—they were fragments of an identity I hadn’t even realized was mine.
When the mirror finally released me, I was on my knees, gasping for air. The room was falling apart now, the mirrors shattering one by one, their shards dissolving into streams of light that shot upward and disappeared into the void.
“You’ve gone too far,” he said, stepping closer, his tone more resigned than angry. But as I forced myself to my feet, I caught something in his blurred form—a smile.
“You’re… smiling?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“I figured this would happen,” he said simply, watching as the remaining mirrors began to flicker and dim. “You were always going to take it all.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, stumbling forward. My body felt like it was splitting apart and fusing back together all at once, the weight of everything I’d taken pressing down on me.
He didn’t answer, at least not directly. Instead, he motioned toward the shattered remains of the room. “The Bureau built this place to keep people like you contained. To keep your kind from realizing what you’re capable of. And here you are, proving them right.”
“I didn’t mean to—” I started, but he cut me off with a sharp laugh.
“You didn’t mean to?” His smile widened. “Simon, you just reclaimed every ounce of power they stole from you. You’re no ordinary soul. And now? Now you’ve got their full attention.”
The words sent a chill through me, but before I could respond, the room’s destruction reached its peak. The remaining mirrors shattered in unison, the light from their fragments converging into a blinding beam that shot straight through the ceiling. The ground beneath us trembled violently, and the hum turned into a deafening crescendo.
“We need to move!” he shouted over the chaos, grabbing my arm. His blurred form was calm despite the destruction around us, his grip steady as he pulled me toward the exit.
“What did I just do?” I asked, my voice barely audible over the roar.
“You woke them up,” he said simply, his tone almost… amused. “And they’re not going to be happy.”
The last thing I saw before we left the Memories Room was the beam of light piercing the ceiling, pulsing like a heartbeat. And deep inside, I felt it too—a power I hadn’t fully grasped, thrumming with the promise of something far greater than I could imagine.