Fragments of Oblivion: Lost Memories

The rain was relentless, carving jagged rivers through the grime-coated streets of Sector Twelve. The storm had receded into a low rumble, but the tension it left behind clung to the air, heavy and suffocating. Elias moved through the winding alleys with mechanical precision, the coin-like device tucked securely in his palm.

It pulsed faintly, as if guiding him toward a destination he hadn't chosen. He didn't question it—he didn't have the energy to. His thoughts were tangled, pulling him back to the impossible conversation with Velra.

Two worlds. Memories bleeding through. The key.

The words felt more like fragments of a dream than something real, and yet every step he took made them harder to ignore. The ache in his chest and the device's pulse were the only certainties he had left.

The alley opened into a wider street, illuminated by flickering neon signs advertising services no one wanted to admit they needed.

A man sat hunched by the gutter, his hands trembling as he clutched a rusted injector filled with a murky blue liquid. His eyes were vacant, his lips moving in silent repetition. "I just needed one more…"

Elias averted his gaze, his steps quickening. He didn't need to look to know what had happened. The man had sold one too many memories. Whatever was left of him now wasn't worth saving.

Ahead, a massive wall of glass divided the lower streets from the city's central district. Beyond it, the floating city loomed like a taunt, its shimmering lights casting false hope over the rain-slicked streets.

Elias stopped short, his fingers tightening around the device. He could feel the divide as if it were a physical thing—a wall between everything he despised and everything he couldn't walk away from.

"Not real, huh?" he muttered to himself, his voice bitter. "Tell that to them."

The device pulsed again, insistent. He glanced down at it, noting how its glow seemed to grow brighter the closer he got to the wall.

"Lost?"

The voice came from behind him, sharp but not unkind. Elias turned, his body tensing as his eyes locked onto the speaker.

The man was tall and lean, his face partially obscured by the shadow of his hood. Despite the darkness, there was a sharpness to him—a presence that made it impossible to look away.

"I know where I'm going," Elias said, his tone curt.

The man smirked, his hood falling back slightly to reveal sharp features and eyes that gleamed with quiet amusement. "Sure you do. That's why you're standing in the rain, staring at a wall."

Elias didn't respond, his grip on the device tightening.

The man tilted his head, his smirk fading into something more serious. "Relax. If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't waste time talking."

"That's comforting," Elias said flatly.

The man stepped closer, his movements fluid and deliberate. "You're holding a key. Do you even know what it's for?"

Elias's chest tightened. "Who are you?"

"Call me Jalen," the man said, his voice casual. "Now that you know my name, mind telling me yours?"

He didn't answer.

Jalen sighed, his eyes flicking to the device. "You have no idea what you're carrying, do you?"

Elias hesitated, his instincts warring with his curiosity. "I know it's not yours."

Jalen laughed softly. "Fair point. But if you're heading where I think you're heading, you're going to need help."

"I don't need your help."

"Right," Jalen said, his smirk returning. "Because wandering into the Divide with no clue what's waiting is such a great plan."

Elias frowned, his pulse quickening. "The Divide?"

Jalen nodded toward the glass wall. "That's what we call it. The space between your world and… the other one. Crossing it isn't as simple as walking through a door. If you don't know what you're doing, you'll end up scattered across both worlds. Or worse."

Elias's grip on the device tightened, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "What do you want from me?"

Jalen's expression softened slightly. "Nothing. Just figured someone like you might need a guide."

"I don't trust you."

"Good," Jalen said with a grin. "You shouldn't."

Elias stared at the wall, the glow of the device pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Jalen waited silently beside him, his presence an unwelcome but undeniable comfort.

"How do I get through?" Elias asked finally, his voice low.

Jalen gestured to the device. "That thing's already done half the work. You just need to tune it."

Elias frowned, holding the device up to eye level. The faint glow seemed to shift, flickering like a dying flame. "Tune it how?"

Jalen stepped closer, his finger tracing a faint line along the device's edge. "It's tied to you now. Your memories, your emotions—it feeds off them. If you want it to open the Divide, you need to give it something to work with."

Elias's chest tightened. "You're saying I have to… sacrifice a memory?"

"Not permanently," Jalen said. "But you have to be willing to let go of it. Just for a little while."

Elias's mind raced, his thoughts spiraling toward the one memory he'd clung to for years. The laughter, soft and fleeting, that had once been his anchor.

"No," he said, his voice trembling.

"You don't have a choice," Jalen said quietly. "The Divide doesn't care what you're willing to lose. It only cares what you're willing to give."

Elias closed his eyes, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. The storm outside seemed to grow louder, its roar drowning out everything else.

When he opened his eyes, his decision was made.

He pressed the device to his chest, letting the memory rise to the surface. The laughter echoed in his mind, sharp and clear, and for a moment he almost let it stop him. But then he felt the pull—the device drawing the memory away, leaving a hollow ache in its place.

The glass wall before him shimmered, the faint glow of the Divide intensifying until it filled his vision.

"Good luck," Jalen said, his voice distant as the world around Elias began to blur.

And then he stepped through.