Ampelius awoke to a Zavon leaning over him, its dark eyes studying him with a clinical, almost surgical focus, like it was preparing for some kind of procedure. The creature’s pale face caught the flickering light above, a black light that created jagged shadows stretching and collapsing across the otherwise pitch-black room.

  A second Zavon stepped into view, and placed a hand on his chest. The touch was shockingly cold, seeping straight through his skin and into his ribs, forcing a sharp inhale from him he couldn’t suppress.

  "Where... am I?" Ampelius finally managed to rasp, his throat raw and dry.

  Instead of a response, the first Zavon produced a small, metallic device from its belt and placed it near Ampelius’s temple. It produced a static like sound before he felt a sudden jolt of energy shot through him.

  His muscles tensed involuntarily as he felt the electricity flow through his entire body. Then he saw visions which flickered, almost like he was watching an entire movie in seconds. But instead of a movie, he saw his own memories, fragments of Vetera, faces, such as Emmett, Bella and Saul, all moments he couldn’t quite grasp.

  "You are where you need to be," the Zavon finally answered in a cold, emotionless tone.

  "Your body and mind are valuable."

  Ampelius fought to stay conscious, his body aching as the effects of the device seemed to pull him deeper into confusion.

  "What... what are you doing to me?" he gasped, his vision narrowing as the room seemed to spin.

  "You are being prepared for what comes next." It responded.

  The room dimmed even further than it was before, leaving only the faint glow around the edges. Ampelius saw nothing but a blur everywhere he looked, but with the lowest light, he was virtually blind.

  Then he felt a sudden pressure against his temples, like invisible hands pushing into his mind. Not long after, he felt pain shoot through his skull. He tried to scream, but no sound came out, his voice trapped by the weight of whatever the Zavons were doing to him.

  Time stretched on and warped around him. Every second dragged like minutes, and those minutes felt like hours. His consciousness began to flicker in and out, and with each flicker came something worse than the pain.

  He saw flashes of massive Zavon ships blotting out the sky, with whole cities swallowed in ash from their presence. And finally, rows upon rows of humans standing motionless, their bodies stiff and empty, like they're being moved like puppets under someone elses control.

  Then the pressure in his head suddenly ceased. He felt his body go limp while gasping for breath. The Zavons were no longer standing over him. He found himself alone in the room, still strapped to the table, and trembling from the remnants of the pain.

  Forcing his mind to focus, he involuntarily whispered, "Welcome to the Solar Replay."

  The words echoed in his mind, striking a chord of deep unease. He had heard that term before, if not vaguely, like a distant memory, but it had never meant anything to him, until now, when his mouth spoke for him.

  "What do you mean, Solar Replay?" he demanded, his voice cracking with fear and confusion.

  At first, there was no response. But eventually, something in the dark answered.

  "Your memories, your experiences, they are not your own. Just recorded, analyzed, and stored. This technology, a remnant from an ancient race, all beyond your comprehension."

  "What? My memories aren't real?" He replied.

  Solar Replay is the method by which we extract and replay key moments of existence, preserving data to guide the future."

  Ampelius's heart pounded as the voice spoke again. "No! My memories are mine!" he yelled, struggling harder against his restraints, panic setting in.

  "Incorrect, your memories are a tool. You are part of a much larger cycle designed to witness, experience, and fail. You and countless others before you have served as participants in the Solar Replay experiment."

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  Ampelius questioned his own memories, all of the moments that had shaped him, his choices, his emotions, were they not real? Or have they been manipulated, recorded, and used as data for something beyond his understanding?

  "Solar Replay," the voice repeated, "is the process in which you relive a portion of your life over and over, with each time including a slight variation. Each replay means you are unaware of the loop you are trapped in. Your actions are a means to gather data on the human condition in varying scenarios of failure, survival, and resistance."

  Ampelius didn't want to believe this. Was his entire life a simulation? A series of replays designed for some distant purpose? The people he loved, the battles he fought, even his most private moments, were they part of this experiment?

  He stared at the screen, where his memories had been paraded before him, his face twisted with fury and disbelief. "No… no! I’m not some puppet in your twisted game!" he roared, fighting with everything he had against the restraints.

  The Zavons returned into the room. Their cold and detached presence only enraged him further.

  "Why me? Why us?" he demanded, his voice raw with emotion.

  "You are not unique," the computerized voice replied. "You are one of many. This experiment spans worlds, species, and eras. Each life lived is another iteration in the cycle of discovery."

  Ampelius's breath came in ragged gasps. "This can't be real." he yelled, feeling the desperation rising like bile in his throat.

  The screen flickered again, this time showing a replay of his actual memories. There were scenes of destruction that played out before him, and there was no question about it, they were his memories, replayed like a nightmare.

  He saw Vetera crumbling under the weight of this war, those same streets torn apart by fire and explosions, and familiar faces running in terror. Then the screen flashed to planets decimated by conflict, worlds Ampelius had never even been to, yet somehow they felt eerily connected to him.

  The images shifted again, this time focusing on a group of Neanderthal-like beings, who resembled those Zavons, each huddled in the shadow of a towering structure. Their once-proud forms were now grotesque, their bodies twisted and disfigured by years of experimentation.

  Ampelius watched as the Zavons were strapped to tables and injected with foreign substances by lengthy figures in advanced suits. He could see their screams without hearing it. Their pain echoed just like his. He was watching a replay of the horrors they too had endured, another cruel experiment at the hands of a technologically superior civilization that saw them as little more than test subjects.

  The visions sped up, blurring into a rush of images. He saw the Zavons change over time, they were no longer the Neanderthal-like beings he’d first seen, but became something far more dangerous. The experiments had twisted them, reshaped them, and turned them into monsters in bodies that never asked to be remade.

  Their faces always remained blank, but it was their eyes… their eyes that burned with intelligence and something worse, suffering. He felt it bleed into him as if their pain had been stamped into his own mind.

  These weren’t memories he lived. They were memories he was being forced to share. He saw them die, resurrect, and die again, just to be forced into battle after battle, trapped in an endless cycle of torment. And for a moment, he understood exactly what they were made into.

  Ampelius realized the truth. These Zavons weren’t the creators of this endless death and destruction, they were the victims, each twisted into tormentors by a power far beyond either of their control.

  "You and these Zavons are bound by this cycle, Ampelius. Every memory, every choice, every moment of pain, each of you share it. You are both victims and instruments." The voice spoke.

  Ampelius's body tensed as he understood the full scope of what he was witnessing. He wasn't just trapped in a loop of his own existence; he was reliving the Zavons' agony, their endless fight for freedom twisted into a perpetual cycle of violence.

  "Break the cycle, Ampelius," the voice whispered as the screen flickered once more, showing his face reflected in the shattered fragments of his own memory.

  "Accept your place in the cycle, Ampelius," the voice intoned. "Resistance is pointless. This is your purpose."

  "No!" Ampelius bellowed, his voice a mixture of rage and terror. "I will break this cycle! I will stop you!"

  The Zavons exchanged a brief glance, as though mildly amused by his outburst. One of them moved toward a lever on the control panel and, without a word, pulled it down.

  Suddenly, the restraints tightened around Ampelius's wrists and ankles, and an intense buzzing sensation filled his skull. His vision blurred, and the room seemed to tilt and spin around him. The last thing he saw before darkness overtook him was the cold, indifferent faces of the Zavons as the world faded to black.

  The voice echoed in the distance, "Begin the next cycle."