Fragments of Oblivion: Lost Memories

The rain had returned, soft and steady, falling in thin sheets, yet drumming against the cracked pavement of Sector Twelve. Elias stood in the alley, his back pressed against the cold stone wall, the weight of the device heavy in his palm. The fractured world was gone, but its presence lingered like a shadow at the edge of his thoughts.

Darius leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Elias. The older man's expression was unreadable, but his silence was heavier than his words ever were.

"So," Elias began, his voice cutting through the rain that coated the men. "You're just not going to talk about it, huh?"

"Talk about what?" Darius replied, his tone neutral.

Elias shot him a look. "The Gatekeeper. The trial. Any of it."

Darius tilted his head slightly, clearly uninterested in giving what had passed an afterlife in conversation. "What's there to say? You made it out. That's what matters."

"That's not enough," Elias snapped, his frustration boiling over. "That thing called me a fracture. Said I was breaking something just by being there. What does that even mean?"

Darius sighed, pushing off the wall. He stepped closer, his boots splashing lightly in the puddles before he began his retort. "It means you're part of something bigger than you realize. And no, before you ask, I don't have all the answers to anything about everything. I'm not your damn encyclopedia."

Elias frowned, the device in his hand pressing cold against his palm- a chill, not like that of a palmed ice cube, rather a parable of a heart void of emotion.

"Bigger than I realize, huh? That's not vague at all."

"Fine," Darius said after a moment of decision. "You want details? The fractured world and this one—they're connected, but not in the way most people think. Memories, emotions, everything people want to forget—that's what feeds the fractures. But here's the kicker: someone's been exploiting that connection."

Elias raised a brow. "Exploiting it how?"

"You ever wonder why the central district keeps growing while places like this rot? Why the elites up there... are always so eager to bury the past? It's because they've found a way to use the fractured world to their advantage. The more they bury, the more power they get."

Elias's stomach turned at the thought. "And no one does anything about it?"

"Who would?" Darius said bitterly. "The people who know are either too scared or too deep in it themselves. And the ones who don't know... well, they're just fuel for the system."

Elias stared at Darius. "You've seen it, haven't you?" he asked quietly.

Darius's smirk faded, and his following words held a weight even Elias could feel. "I've seen enough. Enough to know that fighting it is like trying to stop the tide with your hands."

"Then why are you still here?" Elias pressed.

For a moment, Darius didn't respond. He looked past Elias, his gaze distant, as if he were seeing something far away.

"Because someone has to be," he said finally. "I've made mistakes, kid. Big ones. And I can't fix them, but I can at least stop other people from making the same."

Elias frowned. "What kind of mistakes?"

Darius's eyes snapped back to him, sharp and unyielding. "The kind that leave scars you can't see. And the kind you don't need to know about."

The rain seemed colder now, seeping into Elias's clothes as he shifted uncomfortably. "You talk like you've given up," he said. "Like this is all just... inevitable."

"It is," Darius replied bluntly. "But that doesn't mean you stop fighting. You just fight smarter."

Elias shook his head, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Smarter? How is any of this smart? You want to help me- a complete stanger- you want to teach me how to survive, and for what? So I can keep losing pieces of myself until there's nothing left?"

Darius's expression softened slightly, though his tone remained firm. His stance, the subtle tapping of his fingers on his biceps suggested irritation, but his voice told a different story. Empathy.

"You're not the first person to walk this path, Elias. And you won't be the last. The difference is whether you walk it alone... or with someone who's been there before."

Elias's indecisive gaze drifted back to the distant lights of the central district. "You said they're using the fractures. How?"

Darius pause, taking the moment to study the broken city. "It's not just about power. It's about control. The fractures feed on what people bury—their regrets, their guilt, their pain. And the people at the top? They've figured out how to weaponize that. They use the fractured world to keep people in line. The more broken someone is, the easier they are to control."

Something invisible weighed heavily on Elias's frame. It was a full minute before he spoke. "And the Gatekeeper? Where does it fit into all this?"

"The Gatekeeper's job is to maintain balance. To keep the fractures from spilling over. But it's not perfect. And lately, it's been slipping."

Elias turned to face him, catching the subtle implication in Darius's tone. "Slipping?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" said Darius, shifting his body to the side as if to avoid a concentrated stream of rain.

Not long after, the rain began to let up, and the faint sound of sirens in the distance gradually cut through the intense silence. Elias looked down at the device in his hand, glowing faint but steady.

"What happens now?" he asked, his voice low.

Darius smirked faintly, something that Elias had grown to know as a rarity. "Now? You learn. You fight. And you try not to lose yourself in the process."

Elias let out a dry laugh, the sound more bitter than amused. "Great. Can't wait."

As they turned to leave, the shadows at the end of the alley shifted. A figure stepped forward, cloaked and silent, its form flickering faintly like the Gatekeeper's.

It wasn't entirely clear if the exhaustion was the culprit of their laten senses, somehow silhouettes of shadow danced around them unnoticed, slicing through the silver light of the moon filtering through the cables tetheringthe city above and what little was provided by flickering streetlamps blow.

That's when the voice came.