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The Earth is on the brink of collapse,but the cause is unlike any apocalypse the world has ever seen. Instead of a natural disaster, it is the slow unraveling of time itself. People wake up every day only to realize that certain things from their past have vanished, and they can't remember them. It’s as if the fabric of reality is fraying, and memories are slipping away one by one, as though they never happened at all. As this phenomenon escalates, an eerie silence falls over the world as people begin to lose their identities. Those who are left unaffected must race against time to find the cause and prevent the complete erasure of humanity.

The protagonist, Elara, is one of the few who are immune to the loss of memories. Haunted by fragments of her past, she embarks on a desperate journey to uncover the truth behind the apocalypse. Along the way, she meets a group of survivors—each with their own secrets, struggles, and a fear that they may one day forget who they are.

The key to saving humanity lies in a mysterious artifact, one that seems to be tied to the beginning of the timeline’s unraveling. But with each passing day, Elara’s memory begins to crack, too, and she begins to question if her quest is just a final, futile attempt to save herself before she forgets everything.

The story weaves themes of identity, memory, and the fleeting nature of human existence, all while maintaining a tense, action-packed pace. As the world grows more unrecognizable, Elara and her group must face the ultimate question: What happens when the last memories of the world vanish

Echos Of The Last Dawn

The deeper Elara went, the more the labyrinth seemed to pulse with a rhythm that wasn't her own—but felt painfully familiar. Like it was echoing her heartbeat. Or her memories.

Each step she took, the walls changed—morphing from smooth crystal to worn metal, to stone again. Time bled together here. Past, present, and something else. Possibility. It clung to her like static.

"Axel," she said into her earpiece, voice low. "Are you still with me?"

A burst of static. Then: "Barely. Whatever you're inside, it's throwing off every reading we have. I've got no visual, no signal locks—just your voice."

"I think this place is alive," she murmured. "Or remembering."

A silence. Then Axel said, "What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure," she whispered. "But I think… it knows me."

The hallway opened into a vast atrium. Dozens of suspended holograms flickered in midair, glowing like dying stars. Each showed scenes she didn't recognize—at least, not fully. One showed a child standing in a garden of blackened flowers. Another, a burning city. Another, a woman in armor—Elara?—kneeling before a crumbling throne, her hands dripping with blood.

Elara walked through them slowly, her breath shallow.

They were possible versions of her life.

She reached out to one—her hand trembling—and the hologram shuddered, then shifted. Suddenly, she was surrounded by sound and light.

She stood at the edge of a great citadel, a storm raging overhead. Before her, legions knelt. Behind her, the same man from the facility—the one who'd said I've been waiting for you—stood with his hand on her shoulder.

"Elara the Unmaker," someone whispered in the wind. "Breaker of the Cycle."

The vision ended. She collapsed onto the ground, gasping.

"Elara!" Axel's voice cut in. "Talk to me! What's happening?!"

She pressed the comm. "I saw a version of me… a queen? No, a conqueror. I think I destroyed something—maybe everything."

Another silence. Then: "Elara. You're scaring me."

She got up slowly. The holograms began to dim as if sensing her decision. Only one remained—at the far end of the atrium.

A single doorway stood behind it. Carved into the frame were the same runes from before—but now, she understood one of them.

But before she could touch it, she heard it again.

There he was. The man in black. Not a projection. Not a memory.

Standing in the flesh, just feet away. Calm. Composed.

And behind his eyes—power. Ancient. Familiar.

"You've come far," he said softly. "But are you ready to see who you truly were?"

She clenched her fists. "I don't need riddles. I need the truth."

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the door. "Then open it. And remember what you've buried."

Axel was shouting something in her ear, but the voice was distant now—like a lifeline slipping through her fingers.

With a deep breath, she placed her palm on the door.

Chapter 8 : Echoes Beneath the Skin