Chapter 1: The Memory Broker

Kael watched the city lights flicker from the narrow window of his apartment, the neon glow painting his face in shades of electric blue and deep violet. He stood there, motionless, a ghost lingering at the edge of a world he no longer felt a part of. Far below, the streets of the city—known simply as "The Verge"—pulsed with the rhythm of a thousand lives, each one carrying memories that might not even be their own.

The Verge was a place where everything was for sale, including the human mind. For those who could afford it, a memory was just another commodity—something to be bought, altered, or erased altogether. For the less fortunate, their memories could be extracted, sold, or rewritten without their consent, leaving behind empty shells where lives had once thrived.

Kael knew the business better than anyone. He used to be a memory architect, one of the best. He had spent years designing intricate realities for those who desired a new past or a more tolerable version of their mistakes. But that was before the accident. Before the memories he had designed cost someone their life. Before he had decided to disappear.

Now he lived off the grid, doing small jobs for people who still remembered his name but not enough to betray him. He was content to stay hidden, to let the world move on without him. At least, that was what he told himself.

A knock at the door broke through his thoughts, the sound sharp and unexpected. Kael's heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively reached for the old revolver he kept hidden under the table. Visitors were rare—especially unannounced ones. He approached the door cautiously, his fingers brushing against the cold metal of the gun.

"Kael?" A woman's voice called from the other side. Soft, yet confident. "I need your help."

Kael hesitated, his hand hovering over the door's control panel. He didn't recognize the voice, but there was something in the way she spoke his name—something that felt urgent, almost desperate. Against his better judgment, he pressed the button, and the door slid open with a soft hiss.

Standing in the hallway was a woman, her features obscured by the dim light. She wore a hooded jacket, her face partially shadowed, but Kael could see her eyes—piercing, determined, and familiar, though he couldn't place why. She stepped forward, and Kael caught a glimpse of a small device in her hand, glowing faintly.

"I'm Seraphine," she said, her gaze locking onto his. "You used to be a memory architect. I need you to help me find something—something that's been taken from me."

Kael narrowed his eyes, his instincts screaming for him to close the door and walk away. But there was a look in her eyes, a haunted emptiness that pulled at something deep inside him. He knew that look—it was the same one he saw in the mirror every day.

"What did they take?" Kael asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Seraphine stepped closer, her voice steady. "My memories. And if we don't get them back, we're both going to lose a lot more than that."

Kael stared at her for a long moment, the weight of her words settling over him like a heavy fog. He had spent so long running from his past, from the mistakes he had made. But something told him that this woman, and whatever secrets she carried, could be the key to finding his way back—or the final step into oblivion.

"Alright," he said finally, stepping aside to let her in. "But if we do this, you need to tell me everything."

Seraphine nodded, her expression softening. "I will. But first, you need to see what they've done to me."

As she walked past him, Kael closed the door, sealing them both inside. He didn't know what lay ahead—whether this was a chance for redemption or a path to destruction. But for the first time in a long time, he felt a spark of purpose, however fleeting. And for now, that was enough.