Echoes of the System

The safehouse smelled like rust, sweat, and something faintly metallic—like old blood soaked deep into the walls. Ember couldn't tell if it was real or just in her head.

She sat on the edge of a makeshift cot, knees pulled to her chest, staring at nothing. The thin blanket felt too rough against her skin, but she didn't care. She wasn't trying to get comfortable.

She wasn't supposed to be here.

Rhea's laughter echoed from the next room, sharp and careless, like the world wasn't crumbling outside. And Ember kind of didn't like that about her

Kai was somewhere beyond the thin metal door, probably plotting the next reckless move. His voice drifted in occasionally—low, steady, always too calm. Like he had nothing left to lose.

But Ember did.

Or at least, she thought she did.

The thought made her chest ache.

She reached into her jacket pocket, fingers brushing the chip. She pulled it out slowly, turning it over in her hands. The etched symbol—half a flame, half a broken chain—felt heavier than it had before.

What am I supposed to do with this?

She didn't get to think about it for long.

The door creaked open, and Kai stepped in, his dark eyes locking onto hers immediately. He didn't say anything at first. Just leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"You okay?" he asked finally.

It was such a simple question. Too simple.

Ember laughed, but it was hollow, brittle. "Do I look okay?"

Kai didn't flinch. "Didn't think so."

Silence settled between them again, but this time it wasn't as heavy. Maybe because Ember was too tired to carry it.

Kai stepped closer, his gaze flicking to the chip in her hand. "You've been staring at that thing like it holds the meaning of life."

"Doesn't it?" she muttered.

Kai smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Not life. Just the truth."

That made her look up. "And what truth is that?"

He hesitated, like he was debating whether to tell her. Then he sat down on the floor across from her, his back against the wall.

"That chip holds more than data," he said quietly. "It holds secrets—the kind that could bring down the Regime if the right people saw them."

Ember's heart stuttered.

She glanced at the chip again, suddenly feeling like it was radioactive. "Why do I have it?"

Kai's jaw tightened. "Because someone trusted you with it."

She didn't remember anyone giving it to her. It had just been there—like it had always been part of her.

"Who?" she whispered.

Kai didn't answer. Not directly.

Instead, he leaned in slightly, his eyes dark and intense. "The Regime wants you because you're not just another face in the crowd, Ember. You're a glitch in their perfect system. And glitches? They terrify them."

Her throat felt tight. She wanted to deny it, to tell him he was wrong. But deep down, she knew he wasn't.

"Whatever's on that chip," Kai continued, "it's tied to you. Your past. Your family."

Family.

The word felt like a knife.

Ember clenched her fists, the chip digging into her palm. "I don't have a family."

Kai didn't argue. He just nodded slowly, like he understood more than she wanted him to.

Then he stood, his expression hardening again. "Get some rest. We move at dawn."

Move where? she wanted to ask. But the words stuck in her throat.

When the door closed behind him, Ember stared at the chip for a long time.

Then, for the first time, she whispered the question out loud:

"Who am I?"