forgotten echoes

LENARD - 6:30 AM

The morning light crept through half-drawn blinds, casting zebra stripes across Lenard's unmade bed. His alarm chirped with mechanical persistence, but he'd already been awake for hours, staring at his right hand in the pre-dawn gloom. The tingling sensation was back – like pins and needles, but warmer, more intentional. Almost like someone had been holding it all night.

"You're losing it, Oak," he muttered to himself, running his fingers through disheveled dark hair. The morning routine was always the hardest part – fighting through the fog of dreams he couldn't quite remember, trying to shake the persistent feeling that something fundamental was missing from his apartment. From his life.

The coffee maker in his kitchenette sputtered to life, its gurgle echoing off bare walls. Level 3 housing in the Institute's residential tower wasn't exactly luxurious, but the view almost made up for it. Aidensville spread out below like a circuit board, morning mist catching the sunrise between steel and glass towers. Somewhere beneath all that modern glory lay the ancient tunnels – his tunnels, or at least the small section of them he was cleared to monitor.

He lifted his coffee mug to his lips, then froze. For a moment, just a heartbeat, he could have sworn he smelled hydrangeas.

EDEN - 7:15 AM

Fifteen floors above, Dr. Eden Hayes stood in her penthouse kitchen, watching the same sunrise paint the city gold. Her reflection in the window looked wrong somehow – silver hair too bright, green eyes too tired. The scar above her left eyebrow seemed to itch, though she'd had it so long she usually forgot it existed.

"Schedule for the day, please," she called out to her AI assistant, trying to ignore the way her left hand kept reaching for... something. Nothing. What was she reaching for?

"Dr. Hayes, your morning includes the weekly rune decay analysis at 9 AM, followed by—"

"Show me the latest readings from Section 7 first." The request came automatically, though she couldn't say why that particular section held such fascination lately.

Holographic displays materialized around her, filling the air with ghostly symbols. The runes pulsed red in their recorded footage, each glyph shifting and changing like living things. Three weeks ago, they'd started behaving differently – subtle changes that only someone with her level of clearance would notice.

"Cross-reference with historical data," she commanded, but her voice caught as a particular symbol flared brighter than the others. Something about its shape made her head ache, like trying to read a word in a language she'd forgotten she knew.

THE TUNNELS - 8:45 AM

Deep beneath the city's foundations, the ancient corridors thrummed with power. Runes carved into stone walls cast their crimson glow over black pools of standing water, each ripple reflecting and refracting the light into complex patterns. The air was thick with the weight of centuries, with secrets carved in stone and symbols older than language itself.

In his small monitoring station, Lenard sat before a wall of screens, each showing different sections of the accessible tunnels. His fingers moved across the keyboard automatically, logging the hourly readings that kept Aidensville running, though nobody quite understood how.

"Hey Oak," Tom called from the next station over. "You see this spike in Section 7?"

Lenard leaned forward, squinting at the readings. The symbols on his screen pulsed with an almost familiar rhythm, like a half-remembered song.

"Probably nothing," he said, but his hand tingled sharply. "Just the usual fluctuations."

But they weren't usual, and some deep part of him knew it. The runes were changing, shifting from their standard patterns into something else. Something older. As if they were trying to rewrite themselves back to an earlier version.

EDEN - 10:30 AM

"The decay rate is accelerating," Dr. Chen insisted, his aged face illuminated by the holographic models floating between them. "Look at the color shift patterns over the past three weeks."

Eden studied the display, watching as recorded symbols faded from white to red in time-lapse. The conference room felt too small suddenly, too warm. "Show me the original survey footage," she heard herself say. "From when the tunnels were first discovered."

The footage flickered to life – grainy, decades old. The runes glowed pure white in those ancient recordings, their patterns simpler, more elegant. Something about that white light made her heart race, though she couldn't say why.

"Dr. Hayes?" One of her junior researchers was speaking. "Are you alright? You've gone pale."

"Fine," she managed, pressing her hand against her temple. "Just... just a headache."

But it wasn't just a headache. It was a memory trying to surface, like a drowning person reaching for... what...