The Last Line

Cain was led outside.The light after the darkness of his cell slashed at his eyes like a hundred razor blades, forcing him to squint and shield his face with his hand.

He winced, shut his eyes tight, forced himself to adjust.And then he saw them.

Nine.

Nine figures stood motionless beside a wide, covered wagon. Stern faces. Tense hands clenched into fists. Their gazes pierced Cain like butchers sizing up a carcass.

Who are they? Cain thought.

The answer came from above.

Perched on the ledge of the nearest building like a vulture on its roost stood Vigfuss. His predatory grin gleamed in the sunlight.

"Thought this would be a duel?"His voice scraped across the square like stone on stone."A fair fight? One-on-one?"

Cain said nothing. His eyes remained locked on the warriors near the wagon.

"This is a god's feast. The strongest doesn't win here — the last one does," Vigfuss said, smiling wide and wild.

Cain looked at the group again. The silence was heavy, stormlike.Now he understood.This wouldn't be a battle.

It would be a slaughter.

A bloody, merciless slaughter.

In that moment — movement.

The silken curtains of the palace pavilion that overlooked the square parted. Osher appeared.

Majestic. Immaculate. He seemed to radiate light — cold, like a winter sun. And beside him — her.

Ko'oni.

She wore a pale, elegant dress that looked absurd on her thin frame. The fabric shimmered. Her red hair, once tangled, was now neatly tied in a tight ponytail, soft curls brushing her shoulder. They had tried to make her look like a gem.

But her eyes… they didn't play the part.

They darted, searched.

And found him.

Cain looked at her, trying to understand — they'd known each other only a few days, yet why did his chest scream protect her like it was instinct?

Osher spoke, not sparing Cain a glance, addressing the fighters by the wagon:

"It's a day's journey to the arena. The battle will take place in Feralis. A charming little city, in its own way."

He turned slightly to Ko'oni and smiled.

"And you and I will take a leisurely walk to the market."

His gaze shifted to Cain, and for a heartbeat, there was a flicker of cruelty behind his calm eyes.

"And you, contender… get going."

Cain stayed silent. He could see how Osher controlled them both. The girl was his leash, his lever. And Cain… Cain was the same for her.

"It's time! Being late for your own death is just bad manners," said Vigfuss as he leapt down from the high wall. The ground trembled faintly beneath him.

Cain climbed into the wagon. The creak of the wooden floor sounded like a verdict.

And just before the wheels groaned into motion, he turned back.

Ko'oni was already walking away with Osher. But for a second, just before turning the corner, she must have felt his gaze — she looked back. Their eyes met.

I'll come back.

He didn't say it out loud.But she understood.

The door slammed shut, plunging him into darkness and the screech of wheels.

Osher and Ko'oni walked along a paved road drenched in noon light.

"Tell me, Ko'oni…" Osher's voice was soft, almost soothing — but it carried a chill like grave soil. He didn't look at her. "Do you believe people truly change?"

She said nothing, staring at her feet.

"Or perhaps," he went on, with a delicate, almost weightless smile, "they simply become more skilled at hiding who they really are?"

Ko'oni stopped abruptly. Osher took one more step, then turned.

She lifted her eyes to his.

"And do you believe that those who break others… do so because they were once broken themselves?"

He smiled. For a moment, the icy mask of politeness cracked — revealing fangs.

"I believe people are their memories. And if you take those away… they become a blank slate. An empty vessel. You can pour anything into them."

He stepped closer, eyes searching her soul.

"That's why your friend is so interesting. He's a blank book. And you, my dear… you're one of the few lines still left inside it. Maybe the last."

Ko'oni turned away, unable to meet his gaze.

Osher tilted his head slightly, voice quieter now, thoughtful:

"I see the memories of everyone who enters my city."

He paused, letting the words sink in.

"But yours… yours I can't read. Closed. Empty. As if you're not even… from this world."

Ko'oni froze. What did he mean?

"Or perhaps," he added lightly, walking again, "someone's protecting you. Quite fiercely. I wonder… who?"

She hesitated a moment, then followed.

"But as you've come to feel," his voice turned silken again, like velvet sliding across skin, "just because I can't see your memories… doesn't mean I can't give you new ones."

Ko'oni clenched her jaw. The hand hidden in her dress trembled. In her palm — the cold weight of a rusty knife she'd somehow managed to hide. Her eyes flicked to his throat. A pulsing artery. One chance.

She struck.

With her whole body, with all her desperation. Swift. Deep.

Warm blood splashed across her face. Osher gasped, doubled over, hands clutching at his throat.

She ran.

Blindly. Through the crowd. Through screams, laughter, crying. People, houses, sky — all blurred into a smear of motion. Her heart thundered in her temples, ready to burst. Air scorched her lungs. She didn't look back.

Free!

But suddenly… the world stopped.And shifted.

She stood still, panting hard.

No.

It couldn't be.

She was there again.On the same street.In front of him.

People walked past exactly as before. The air smelled the same. A pigeon flapped its wings on a lamppost — just like it had the moment before the knife.

And Osher. Alive. Unharmed. Not a scratch.

He smiled at her. Calmly. Patiently.

"Welcome to my world."

He stepped toward her. His eyes gleamed with an unnatural turquoise light.

"You ran. You killed me. You believed in freedom. And all of it, my dear… was just a memory. One that never happened."

He gestured for her to follow.

They emerged at the market. If the word market even applied here...

No stalls. No merchants. No buyers — not in any ordinary sense.

Only bodies.

Dozens. Hundreds of bodies.

People — lying, sitting, wandering aimlessly. Frozen in grotesque, unnatural poses. Some laughed silently into the void. Some whimpered, clutching their knees. Some stared at the sky with vacant eyes and inside-out smiles.

The ground was littered with tiny glass vials, like petals from exotic flowers. Most were empty. The shattered ones oozed a thick pink slime into the dust.

"Welcome," Osher repeated, sweeping his hand across this kingdom of forgetfulness. "To the Memory Market."

Ko'oni covered her mouth, fighting the nausea.

A girl, no older than twenty, lay at their feet. Her face was streaked with tears, but her lips curled in bliss. An empty vial in her hand. She whispered with her last breath:

"He's with me again… he's holding my hand…"

And then she went still.

"They buy happiness," Osher said, emotionless. "Someone else's, of course. Their own's long been sold. And with it — themselves."

He looked at Ko'oni.

"I don't break them. I simply… give them what they crave most."

He stepped forward. A crunch of glass beneath his boot.

"Some pay in coin. Some… with what's left of them. And some… pay with others."

He glanced around with a faint smirk, like a tour guide among the ruins of civilization.

"This part of the city — the rejects. Those who sold everything. Even their soul. For a drop of someone else's joy. And now…" he nodded toward a man who giggled mindlessly, cradling a headless doll, "they're happy. In their own way."

He sighed theatrically.

"I rarely come here. Too… monotonous. Thank you for the company."

He turned to her, as if expecting gratitude.

"Look at them. Pitiful things, hollowed out. Don't they deserve to become dust?"

Ko'oni didn't move. Something hot and sharp boiled in her chest. Disgust — at these spineless husks, their broken smiles, their breath reeking of stolen dreams. And… pain. Real, cutting pain. She saw a woman by the wall whispering to the void: "I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry. I just wanted to forget how you cried when you died…"

Compassion? Rage? Pity? Disgust? Fear? They warred inside her, but none could take the lead.

Osher watched her with patient interest.

"You still think I'm a monster?" he asked, almost gently.

He waited a moment, then continued, voice like silk:

"Do you know why your companion came to this city?"

Ko'oni slowly raised her eyes. She didn't answer.

Osher smiled.

"Not just to remember. Not just to find someone long lost. He came in desperate hope. Hope that all of it — the pain, the fury, the years in the mines — meant something. That there's still something real inside him."

He stepped closer. His voice dropped to a whisper.

"But… what if he's wrong? What if you are the only reason he's still standing? The last thread keeping him from falling into the abyss?"

He looked up at Memento's sky, veiled in haze.

"See these… creatures? They once hoped, too. Then they sold the memory of hope… for a moment's peace."

He met her eyes again.

"And here's the curious part. Peace kills slowly, so gently you barely notice. But hope? Hope tears you apart much faster."

Ko'oni clenched her fists until her nails cut into her palms. She said nothing, but for the first time in ages, her eyes held not just pain — but fury. Cold, clear fury.

Osher laughed softly, almost soundlessly. And walked away down the cracked stone road.

"Remember this," he said. "Memento is the city where everything is forgotten. And you… you'll forget him too."

He was nearly gone into an alley when her voice stopped him.

"No."

Osher froze. Slowly turned back. A hint of surprise touched his face.

"Pardon?"

Ko'oni stood tall. Her gaze unwavering.

"I won't forget him. I don't want to."

The air in the Market grew still.

"Because he's the only one," her voice trembled — not from fear, but from the strength of what she felt, "who didn't turn away when I was scared and alone. Let him be silent. Let him hide everything behind scars. But I saw it. He's alive. And you…" — she stepped closer, eyes level with his — "you only know how to take. To strip. To turn things into dust."

Osher stared at her for a long moment.Then… he smiled.And for the first time, that smile held no mockery, no arrogance.Just a shadow of something else.

Respect?

"Good," he said quietly. "Very good. Let's see how long you can hold on to that."

He turned and walked away.

Ko'oni stood still. In the heart of the market, where the ground crackled with the shards of other people's joy.

And then she followed him.

But her steps no longer trembled.