Embers of Memory

The scent of dust and old parchment filled the air in the Langley archives, deep beneath the academy's eastern wing. Flickering candlelight danced on the stone walls, casting sharp shadows across tall shelves of forgotten knowledge. The quiet felt almost sacred, interrupted only by the soft sound of papers being turned with careful attention.

Selene sat cross-legged on the floor next to a crate of untouched records, her coat draped over a nearby chair, sleeves rolled up. Her silver-white hair hung loosely around her face, and ink stained her fingers. She had been reading for hours, maybe even days. The world above felt distant.

Since the incident with the prototype weapon, everything had changed.

No one had questioned her. Not the scholars, not the engineers, and not even Elias. They were concerned, but silent. That silence bothered her more than fear ever could.

They were waiting for something.

Maybe she was, too.

She pulled another scroll from the crate, one marked with Langley's old infrastructure registry—a remnant from the duchy's golden age. She wasn't searching for anything specific. She just needed to understand. Anything. Everything. The violent surge of energy during the prototype test had endangered those nearby and left her feeling shaken, a sensation she hadn't experienced since her exile.

Her aura had always been vast. She knew that much from her training in the Cromwell technique, long before the betrayal. But now she didn't feel power; she felt instability. For the first time, it was beyond her control.

No one had ever taught her how to respond when the rules no longer applied.

She skimmed the scroll, her lips moving silently.

Most of it contained details about infrastructure: transport channels, conduit systems, aura stabilizers… and then a name.

"Aura regulation chambers, eastern foundation vaults."

Her breath caught.

She unfolded the rest quickly, scanning for details.

There were mentions of experimental compression rooms, aura harmonization fields, and early containment models for "unpredictable pulse reactions." Most of these had been shut down after Langley's collapse. But the location was clear—a now-buried wing beneath the academy, forgotten under layers of rubble and neglect.

She leaned back.

Why would an institution for scholars need containment fields?

The question nagged at her, but she couldn't shape it yet. She hated that. Not knowing. She always had the answers. That was her strength.

But this aura—her aura—wasn't responding to logic. It was like trying to control a storm by memorizing the rainfall.

Deep down, she sensed it hadn't always been this way.

Something had changed.

That night, she fell asleep without struggle.

She found herself in the hallway again. But this time, it wasn't made of ash. It was stone, familiar. She recognized the corridor, though the doors were wrong—taller, darker, locked with symbols she couldn't decipher.

The air was still, yet not silent. She could hear her own thoughts echoing.

What am I missing? Why now? What changed? What's inside me?

The corridor curved slightly, and at the end, bathed in light from a swinging lamp, sat the chained version of herself.

No throne. No roots. Just her. Cross-legged on the floor, shackled by aura-threaded cuffs. She looked up—not surprised, not welcoming. Just there.

Selene approached slowly, unsure of what to say.

The chained version spoke first, her voice flat and calm.

"You're starting to ask the wrong questions."

Selene blinked. "I'm asking every question."

The copy tilted her head.

"That's the problem."

Selene frowned, kneeling before her. "Then what should I be asking?"

A long pause followed.

Finally, the chained version looked up at the swinging light above them. "Not what it is. Not what caused it. But how you're still alive."

Selene didn't respond.

"You shouldn't be. Not with that much aura. Not with this much breakage."

"Then why am I?" Selene whispered.

The copy's eyes softened, but her expression remained unchanged. "You're searching for a pattern, something to blame. You will find something, eventually. But it won't explain you."

Selene clenched her fists. "Then why tell me any of this? If there's no answer?"

"There might be a way," the chained version replied.

Selene leaned in. "What way?"

But the version of her merely smiled faintly, the kind of smile people wear before a funeral.

"That's not for me to say."

The stone corridor faded.

Selene woke with a start.

Sweat clung to her neck. Her heart raced. She sat up slowly, her fingers trembling as she reached for the cot's edge.

No voice guided her. No truth was revealed.

But she had a new question.

Not why she was broken.

But how she had survived this long.

And somewhere beneath the foundations of Langley, there might be a clue.

She stood up.

And walked back to the archive.