Fragments of Oblivion: Lost Memories

The air beneath the floating city was colder, heavier. Elias followed Mara through the winding corridors, each step carrying him deeper into a world that felt increasingly detached from reality. The walls were lined with conduits that pulsed faintly, as though the city itself had a heartbeat.

Darius walked beside him, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, scanning every shadow they passed. He said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes—it was the silence of someone who had walked into danger enough times to recognize its scent.

Ahead, Mara moved with purpose, her steps quick and deliberate. She didn't look back, didn't check to see if they were keeping up. She didn't need to.

"Feels too quiet," Darius muttered, his voice low. "You'd think a place like this would have more security

"It does," Mara said without looking back. "We're not in deep enough to see it yet."

Elias tightened his grip on the identification badge hanging from his neck. The thin, plastic card bore a false name and credentials that Mara had assured them would hold up to scrutiny. He wasn't convinced.

"This feels too easy," Elias said, his voice low.

"It's not," Mara replied sharply. "Keep moving."

Elias glanced at the faintly glowing pipes above them, the soft hum of machinery filling the air. He wasn't sure what unnerved him more—the silence or the suggestion that it wasn't real.

They passed a group of workers pushing carts loaded with memory vials, their faces slack and eyes vacant. Elias slowed as one of them came closer, the man's movements stiff and mechanical, like a puppet on strings.

"I've seen this before," Elias began, his voice barely above a whisper. "Back home. But this is different. "

"They've been drained," Mara said without looking back. "Too many extractions. They're alive, but everything that made them human is gone."

The man pushed his cart past them, the faint clink of vials the only sound he made. Elias watched him disappear around a corner, a knot tightening in his chest.

"This is what happens to the people here?" he asked.

Mara stopped and turned, her gaze steady. "This is what happens when the system decides you're more valuable as fuel than as a person."

Darius let out another low whistle. "Efficient."

Mara's expression hardened. "Efficient doesn't mean just."

The corridor opened into a vast, sterile chamber bathed in cold, white light. Rows of chairs lined the space, each one occupied by a person hooked to a tangle of tubes and wires. The soft, rhythmic hum of the machinery filled the air, punctuated by the faint hiss of the extraction devices.

Elias froze at the threshold, his breath catching in his throat. The people in the chairs were motionless, their faces calm but eerily blank. Tubes ran from their temples to tanks filled with shimmering, golden liquid—memories, siphoned from their minds.

"This is where it happens," Mara said, stepping into the room. "The heart of their operation."

Elias followed her reluctantly, his eyes darting to the lifeless figures around them. The clinical precision of the scene made his skin crawl.

"How can they just sit there?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"They don't know it's happening," Mara said. "The system keeps them compliant. Most of them probably think they're asleep."

Elias's gaze lingered on a young woman in one of the chairs, her face serene as the tubes drained her memories. His stomach churned, but he couldn't seem to tare his eyes away.

At the far end of the room, Mara stopped at a console and began typing rapidly. The screen lit up with schematics and data streams, the light reflecting off her sharp features.

"They're testing a new extraction method," she said, her tone clipped. "It's faster, more efficient, but it completely destroys the subjects. They lose everything—memories, identity, even basic motor functions."

Darius frowned. "Why push it that far?"

"Because they can," Mara replied. "The system doesn't care about the cost. It only cares about results."

Elias stared at the screen, his jaw tightening. "And we're just supposed to let this happen?"

Mara's hands paused over the keyboard, her gaze flicking to him. "We're here to gather intel, not play heroes. If we act now, we risk exposing everything—and losing everything."

"And if we don't act?" Elias shot back.

"Then we stay alive long enough to make a difference," Mara said sharply. "This isn't about one room, Elias. It's about the entire city."

Darius stepped between them, his voice calm but firm. "She's right. We stick to the plan."

Elias clenched his fists, his frustration simmering. He wanted to argue, but he knew they didn't have time.

Elsewhere in the city, Kael stood in the shadows of the auction hall, reviewing security footage on a handheld device. His sharp eyes scanned the images of technicians moving through the hall, their movements precise and rehearsed—except for one group.

He paused the footage, zooming in on Elias, Darius, and Mara. Their steps were too deliberate, their gazes too aware.

Kael's jaw tightened. He tapped a button, marking the timestamp before speaking into his commlink.

"Send a team to sweep the lower levels," he ordered, his tone calm but cold. "I want them found."

Back in the extraction room, an alarm blared suddenly, the sound slicing through the heavy silence. The lights flickered, casting harsh shadows across the sterile space.

"We need to move," Mara said, already heading for the exit.

Elias hesitated, his gaze lingering on the rows of lifeless faces in the chairs. He felt a hand on his arm—Darius, pulling him toward the door.

"You can't save them," Darius said, his tone low but firm.

Elias's chest tightened as he turned away, the weight of his inaction pressing heavily on his shoulders.

Kael entered the extraction room moments later, his boots echoing on the polished floor. His gaze swept over the space, landing on the console Mara had accessed.

He stepped closer, his expression unreadable as he examined the faint traces they'd left behind.

"They know," he murmured.