“Astrid! Hello… Eden to Astrid?”

  My eyes flutter at the sound of a snap. The silence shatters, and my sharp ears pick up the world around me again. People talking. Laughter. Cutlery clinking. And the nauseating smell of the coffee resting in front of me.

  It’s hot. Its steam dazes my thoughts. It rises in a straight, perfect line. No wobble. No disturbance. No wind. The air around us is completely still.

  Nico sits across the small coffee table. We’re outside a tiny coffee shop he has been begging me to try ever since we started working for the Planetary Alliance as Hunters in training.

  Two years have already passed since the Nexus Event that changed our lives. It still feels unreal that all thirteen of us survived and became the pioneers of a new era of Nexus Beings.

  The Emperor welcomed us, and now Beta 3 stands at the top as a flourishing human-owned planet.

  “Are you alright?” Nico asks while sipping his coffee. The brown beverage is something I’m still not used to. Its pungent smell always makes my skin crawl. “You’ve been spacing out a lot. Has the training of a Monarch really drained you that much?”

  “The training of a Monarch is meant to drain you. They recently sent me to Roma. Training on a planet undergoing terraforming is… difficult. The gravity is still being adjusted, so I need a gravity suit just to walk. And fighting needs more effort.”

  I recall my training on Roma, one of the Blood Monarch’s planets. Like Mars, it’s a red world, but it has far higher chances of supporting human and non-human life. While it took centuries to terraform Mars, Roma is projected to become a utopia in a fraction of that time.

  Nico laughs. “17.9m/s is something alright.” Unlike me, he’s stationed on Beta 3. I’ve seen him fight a few times since Nether. The Blood Monarch placed him under the wing of one of Beta 3’s elite forces. I’m beyond proud of him. “By the way, have you found any dragons on Roma, yet?”

  “Huh?” Why the sudden mention of dragons?

  “Have you found any minerals on Roma, yet?” he repeats.

  “No…” Maybe my head is still fuzzy from the smell of the coffee. I’m hearing things again. “The miners are still figuring out how to get underground safely. We don’t want to damage the ecosystem or upset the balance.”

  “Interesting. So I’m guessing it’s all thanks to Ashmeal’s grace.”

  A chuckle escapes me at the name Ashmeal, the god of humanity. “I thought you hated him.”

  “Who?” He frowns at me as if I just insulted his mother. “Ashmeal? Why would I hate the god who delivered us from Nether?”

  My hand slams the table. I laugh. An actual, genuine laugh. “Are you stupid? Ashmeal didn’t deliver us from Nether…”

  Spending time with those Lion worshippers has clearly messed with his brain.

  “Then who did?” he asks, raising one of his brows as though he expects me to figure it out.

  I open my mouth, and nothing comes out. I freeze, finger raised as if the answer is obvious. I do remember the final moments of our Nexus Event. I remember the system message before the gate opened, and we were sent out.

  But the name…The identity…The memory. It’s gone. I know we didn’t do it alone. Someone else helped us get to where we needed to be. He was there when we fought the Darkest Night and won. He’s a very important individual.

  So why can’t I remember?

  As I think, a cold sensation settles over me. I almost trigger a memory, but the trauma from the final battles slams it back down. Even after losing my fear of death, those memories refuse to return.

  “I don’t remember.” I force down the coffee. The heat crawls down my throat. I want to spit it out. The fact that I played a role in a mission I can’t remember makes my bones itch.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Nico scoffs and leans back in his seat. The black and red Imperium uniform makes him look older than seventeen. He still wears those cartoonish, round glasses, and his hair is still as unkempt as always. The ring on his finger gleams. It's the symbol of his loyalty to the Blood Monarch. I also wear one.

  “Anyway,” he says, “it’s always good catching up with you, fellow sister. You should get some rest.”

  He taps his finger on the table. It’s a tiny sound, a single tap, but in my ears it detonates like a drum.

  “Nico…” I shiver as my attention points to his fingers. He taps again. One tap. He waits. Two taps.

  The café blurs. The edges of the world smear like melting paint. My breath catches, and something yanks at my senses.

  I blink and everything resets.

  Nico taps again. Soft, barely a flick of his nail against the wood. But my body reacts violently, as if someone slammed a gong beside my skull.

  He repeats the sequence: one tap, wait, two taps.

  He doesn’t notice my reaction. He’s staring at the street, swirling his drink like nothing is wrong. As he continues with his coffee, his fingers work on their own. Two taps. Wait. Two more. Three taps. Three louder taps. A pause. One loud tap. One soft.

  My heart stops. Morse code. He’s speaking to me through Morse code!

  ‘I-L-L-U-S-I-O-N’

  Suddenly, the table shakes. Not physically. Through me. Inside me. In that space behind thought, a pulse of familiarity strikes my ribs like a warning bell. My teeth clench, my nails dig into my palms.

  How is this an illusion?

  A cold wave sweeps over me, crawling up my spine like fingers made of ice. I scan the café. People chat, sip drinks, smile at holo screens, and walk past in city uniforms. Everything looks normal. Too normal. This is the surface they always showed us at Bloodhaul.

  What is wrong with this? Where is the illusion?

  My vision flickers. The sunlight on the street glitches—just once, like a skipped frame. Then it settles again, pretending nothing happened. Am I going mad?

  Nico taps again. I listen carefully.

  ‘T-R-A-P’ His face stays calm. He smiles at me with the same friendly smile I’ve known for years.

  What Trap? Could something have possessed him?

  “Nico,” I speak slowly, “where are we?” It’s simple. Too simple. And I don’t have the answer myself.

  Nico tilts his head, confused. “Vantis Leo, of course.” His smile stays frozen. It doesn’t twitch. Not even once. “You and Ivy come here often.”

  Vantis Leo is one of the many cities on Beta 3. If I’d ever been here, I would remember it. But I don’t. This is my first time in Vantis Leo. Ivy and I have never set foot here. Not once. I haven’t seen her since Bloodhaul.

  There are gaps in my memory. Gaps that are not supposed to be there.

  I look around again. Everything still appears normal. Aside from the lack of wind, the citizens move naturally. The yellowish pale clouds still cover the sky. Hover rides fly between buildings like birds.

  ‘Nothing out of the ordinary. If this is an illusion, I should’ve noticed some errors. Why am I not seeing any?’

  “What did we eat before coming here?”

  “Noodles.” He finishes his sip. “And what’s with the odd questions? Are you alright?” He taps again. Quick, precise taps that somehow feel too intentional. Too practised. No one else notices.

  I translate.

  ‘S-Y-S-T-E-M’

  What does he mean by that?

  The cup of coffee in front of him vibrates. Not a gentle tremor—more like something pushing up from underneath. A ripple bulges the surface, warping the air above it. His reflection distorts… then stretches as if pulled by invisible hands. For a heartbeat, it isn’t his face looking back at me. It’s longer. Hollow. Wrong.

  The smell of coffee sharpens until it is chemical, almost metallic. It sears up my nose like burning iron.

  The voices around me collapse into one continuous sound. A droning, suffocating hum that presses against my skull. No words. No humanity. Just presence.

  My throat tightens. My heartbeat spikes. Something is very, very wrong. I jolt from my seat and summon my weapon. The name leaps to my tongue like a reflex.

  Nothing happens. The name slips away like wet paper in my hands before I call it out.

  Why don’t I remember its name? It’s mine. It’s earned. I bled for it. Fought a demon half-dead for it. How can I forget something carved into my bones?

  “What is the name of my sword?” My voice cracks. Nico doesn’t respond. He watches me like I’ve just spoken in a foreign tongue.

  I stare at his fingers, waiting for a message. A tap. A twitch. Anything.

  Nothing. His other side is silent. Too silent. As if it’s been cut out. A cold fear crawls up my spine.

  I slam my hands on the table. The shop freezes. Every pair of eyes turns toward me slowly. Their motions drag, like puppet strings tugged through tar.

  Nico is supposed to know the name of my sword. He was there when I whispered it to him. It was the reason he didn’t kill me in that hellscape. The reason we walked out alive.

  “What is the name of my sword?” I ask again. This time, my voice shakes. The fear has returned after so many years.

  “Are you not well?” Nico smiles. But something is off. His expression bends wrong at the edges. His eyes are cold. Vacant as if he’s wearing Nico’s face rather than being him.

  The real Nico is cold, yes, but not hollow. Not this empty.

  He would know the name. He should know the name. I told him before we entered the Dragon Spire. I remember his reaction. I remember…

  Do I?

  My breath shortens. The fear rushes to mind and plants itself. The sensation is electric. My eyes dart around. The errors are there. I just forget them as soon as they’re corrected.

  “What happened to me?”