Story gathered his people in the throne room. Three hundred survivors.

  "We're leaving," he said. "All of us. There's a place we can go where the Agarians can't follow."

  He didn't explain what it was. Didn't mention his brother. Didn't say it was built as a memorial.

  Story continued, indifferent. "First wave crosses, checks if it's safe, comes back in ten minutes. Then the rest of us follow."

  He started pointing. The war council. The soldiers who had defended the outer walls. The ministers who had only joined his court after his parents died.

  "You. You. You." One by one, he selected them – with a sense of urgency. "First wave."

  The people he pointed to looked at each other. Some opened their mouths to protest.

  "The Agarians are outside our gates." Something in Story's voice had shifted. Harder. Like something inside him had finally stopped bending. "If we stay, we die. If we go, we might die. There's no third option."

  He turned to the chief scientist. "The crystals. Are they ready?"

  "Yes. The lock system is complete. Once we activate it, the passage seals. The Agarians won't be able to follow unless they can produce every crystal themselves. They can’t. We'll be safe in the memorial world while we produce new crystals. And when we're ready, we return. And we take back what's ours."

  "Good." Story looked back at the first wave. "You leave tonight."

  Asha stood near the throne, untouched. Shima beside him. The families Story had grown up with. The advisors who had known his parents.

  None of them were pointed at.

  The first wave understood. They weren't volunteers. They were the ones the king could afford to lose.

  Story found Asha after the announcement.

  "I need to speak with you. Alone."

  They walked to the armory. Story closed the door behind them.

  Asha looked around at the weapons lining the walls. Then he saw the canisters in the corner. Metal. Unmarked. The kind of thing you don't label because everyone who needs to know already does.

  "There's another part to the plan," Story said. "Something I didn't tell the others."

  "Your Majesty?"

  Story walked over to the canisters. Ran his hand along one of them.

  He paused. Something flickered across his face, like he was deciding whether to continue. "These are gas canisters. You will place them around the palace strategically. When we leave for the memorial world, I need you to activate them. Twenty-minute delay. All of them. Synchronized."

  Asha looked at the canisters. "What kind of gas?"

  "Phosgene. At a concentration of twelve hundred parts per million."

  Asha went quiet. "That would kill everyone outside the palace walls."

  "Yes."

  Asha's eyes moved, calculating. Starting concentration. Rate of dispersal. Distance to the outer territories. "Even at the borders... that's still lethal."

  “Yes.”

  "Not just Agarian soldiers. Civilians. Families. Children who had nothing to do with—"

  "I know what it would do."

  Silence.

  "Why are you telling me this?" Asha asked. "Why not just do it yourself?"

  "Because I need someone to push the button while I lead the others through the portal." Story finally turned to face him. "And because I don't want the others to carry this. They'll live in the memorial world thinking we escaped. That the Agarians are still out here, living their lives, ruling a kingdom we abandoned."

  "But they won't be."

  "No. They won't be."

  Asha looked at his king. Fourteen when he took the throne. Almost sixteen now. Two years of watching him make decisions no person should have to make.

  "Why me?" Asha asked in despair.

  "Because you'll do it." Story's voice was flat. "And because you understand why it has to happen. The others would hesitate. Question. Try to find another way." He paused. "There is no other way. If we leave them alive, they'll find a way to follow us eventually. They'll never stop. This ends it."

  Asha looked at the canisters again.

  "The burden stays with us," Story said. "You and me. No one else needs to know what we did to survive."

  Asha was quiet for a long time.

  "As you command," he said finally.

  Story nodded once. Then he walked out, leaving Asha alone with the canisters and the weight of what they were about to do.

  Flashback, Palace

  The first wave gathered at the crossing point. The war council. The soldiers from the outer walls. The ministers who had joined after his parents died. Everyone Story had pointed at.

  "Ten minutes," Story told them. "If it's safe, come back. We'll be waiting."

  One by one, they stepped onto the crossing point and vanished. Transported to a world that existed in a plane alongside their own.

  Story turned to his people. "Now we wait."

  Ten minutes passed. No one returned.

  Twenty minutes. Nothing.

  One hour.

  "Something's wrong," someone in the crowd whispered.

  Story didn't respond. He was thinking.

  The first wave is gone. They should have been back by now. Something in the memorial world took them.

  They need to be retrieved.

  But if the memorial world affects memory, my people won't remember why they're there. Won't remember the mission. Won't remember anything.

  They need orders that survive the forgetting or any complications they might face. And I think I know the perfect way to do that.

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  Story turned to face the group. "The place we're going has people who aren't real. They look human but they're not conscious. Just replicas. They can't hurt you, but they might get in your way.” He paused. “The first wave is still in there somewhere. This is now a reconnaissance mission. Engrave these words on your arm: ‘Bring back the conscious people alive by whatever means necessary. Eliminate all resistance. Orders from King.’”

  No one moved.

  Story seethed in frustration at their hesitation. “We don’t have time. The Agarians will breach the walls any day now. Do it.”

  Blades came out. Hesitant at first. Then the first cut. Then another. People wincing, gritting their teeth, carving words into their own flesh because there was no other choice.

  But, among them stood rebels who'd waited for this chance. They carved differently: "Kill all conscious people."

  Story watched his people mark themselves. His eyes caught Simon near the back, blade in hand, not moving. Just staring at the metal.

  He caught Asha's eye and nodded towards the crowd.

  Asha nodded back, stepping forward to manage them.

  Story walked through the crowd toward Simon.

  "Come with me," Story instructed, maneuvering the confused boy away from the uncertain group.

  He pulled Simon into a side room. The door shut behind them.

  Simon stood still. The room was small. The king was close. Closer than he should be to a guard.

  "Your Majesty?"

  Story didn't answer. He was looking at him. Not at his face. Higher. At his short, cropped hair.

  Simon's chest tightened. "Is something wrong? Did I—"

  Story reached up. His fingers brushed against Simon's scalp, finding the edge of something underneath the short strands.

  He pulled.

  The cropped hair came away in his hand. Long black hair spilled down past her shoulders.

  She couldn't move.

  "I've known for a while," Roy said, setting the wig aside. His voice was soft. "Your parents needed the money. Men get paid more."

  She dropped to her knees. "Your Majesty. I'm sorry. If you want to execute me, I understand. I won't fight it."

  "Stand up."

  She didn't move.

  "Stand up."

  She rose on shaking legs, still not looking at him.

  "I'm not angry," Roy said. "I'm sorry."

  "...What?"

  "I'm sorry you had to do this. I can't even blame your parents. I know your family is poor, no matter how much your parents dress you up as upper class." He paused. "After this is over and we return to this world, I'm promoting you. If you want to stay in your disguise, that's fine. But you can also work as a woman. Same pay. As one of my close advisors."

  She stared at him. Then she moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, face pressed into his shoulder.

  Roy let her hold on.

  When she pulled back, he asked, "What do you want your new name to be?"

  "I don't know." Her voice was barely there. "I'll listen to anything you say."

  "Then your name is Shima."

  She mouthed it silently.

  "There's something else." Roy's tone shifted. "Asha. I like him. He's smart. But he's carrying something heavy now. Something that's going to eat at him in the memorial world, even if he doesn't remember why." He met her eyes. "I need you to be there for him. In private. Help him through whatever comes. Can you do that for me?"

  Shima nodded. "I understand."

  Roy reached out and ruffled her hair. "Be ready in five minutes."

  He walked out.

  Shima stood alone in the room.

  She replayed his words. The way he'd looked at her. The way he'd touched her hair.

  He chose me, she thought.

  She looked around. A desk. Papers. A letter opener.

  Something felt wrong. Not about Story. About what was coming. The memorial world. Walking into a place no one had tested.

  She didn't know why, but she was certain she was going to forget.

  She picked up the blade.

  “My name is Shima," she started engraving. The blade bit into her skin. She winced.

  “I serve Story,” she continued, deeper this time. Blood welled up, but her hand stayed steady. “Asha is my responsibility.”

  It hurt. It hurt a lot.

  She liked it.

  Not the pain exactly. The proof. Every cut was a promise she couldn't break. Something permanent in a world that was about to forget everything.

  She looked at the words.

  Story had said help him. Be there for him.

  But what if that wasn't enough? What if Asha broke? What if he became a problem? What if the only way to truly serve Story was to make sure Asha never weighed him down?

  He couldn't say it out loud. But I know what he meant, she thought.

  One more line.

  "My goal is to kill Asha,” she wrote as the fourth line, finalizing her engraving.

  The blade dragged slower this time. She watched the blood pool in the letters.

  She didn't wince.

  She pulled her sleeve down, put on her wig, and walked out to join the others.

  Flashback, Palace

  Asha paced around, biting his lip, anxious. "They should have come back by now."

  "We're going anyway." Story walked toward the crossing point. "The Agarians will breach these walls within days. This is our only option."

  "But if something happened to them—"

  "Then we'll find out what." Story's voice left no room for argument. He looked at Asha. Gave a small nod.

  Asha sighed and walked to the control panel. His hand hovered over the button for a moment.

  He pressed it.

  Nothing visible happened. Just a click.

  "Everyone cross. Now,” Story instructed.

  Shima moved first, falling into step beside Story without hesitation. Asha followed, face carefully blank. The rest of the inner circle after them. Then the noble families Story had kept close. The ones he couldn't afford to lose.

  Thirty seconds later, they were all gone.

  Flashback, Twenty Minutes Later

  The gas spread.

  From the palace vents. From hidden canisters meticulously picked by Asha. Green. Thick. Lethal.

  The Agarians didn't understand at first. Then they started coughing. Then they started falling.

  Soldiers. Civilians. Families. Children.

  Story hadn't planned to gas just the palace. He'd planned to gas everything. The entire kingdom. Every territory the Agarians had taken.

  If he couldn't have it, no one would.

  Within an hour, the original world was silent.

  Flashback, Memorial World

  Deep in the memorial world, a sword waited.

  It had been somewhere in space since the first collapse. Since two boys were crushed into a singularity and became something new. Conscious. Patient. Watching the void for years until the construction of the memorial world. Interested, it went back to that world and created people out of manipulated matter from the ground. Formed them from elements. Soon, those zombies got bored to watch, repetitive.

  Now the streets were full, with conscious people.

  The sword felt them arrive. Felt their confusion, their fear, their memories of a kingdom and a crossing and a genocide they'd left behind.

  It reached out. Not physically. Mentally.

  Their memories began to fade. Why they came. What they left. Who they were.

  The memorial world filled with confused people who didn’t even remember a portal. Their past lives dissolving like dreams.

  They were home now.

  Whether they wanted to be or not.

  Flashback, Memorial World

  Shima opened her eyes.

  Paradise. Perfect streets. Blue sky. She had no idea where she was or how she got here.

  People were scattered around her. A boy stumbling into a girl with long hair, both of them looking lost. An older man sitting on the curb with his head in his hands. A woman wandering in circles, calling out a name she probably didn't even recognize anymore.

  Someone was standing right next to her. A man, around her age, looking just as confused as everyone else.

  "Do you know what's happening?" she asked.

  He blinked. Looked around. Looked at his hands like they belonged to someone else.

  "I don't... I can't remember,” he stuttered.

  "What's your name?" she asked.

  He opened his mouth. Closed it. His brow furrowed.

  "Asha... no. No wait, I think it's Arius."

  Shima felt a sting on her forearm. She looked down.

  Words. Carved into her skin. Partially scabbed over, some letters smeared with dried blood.

  “My name is Shima.”

  Okay, she thought.

  “I serve Story.”

  Who? her mind races.

  “Asha is my responsibility. My goal is to kill Asha.”

  She looked up at him. Asha. Arius. Whatever.

  "What's that on your arm?" he asked, peering down.

  She tilted her wrist so he could see. Watched his face as he read it.

  "Kill... Asha?" He stepped back. "What the hell?"

  "Relax." Shima kept her voice even. "You said your name is Arius, right?"

  "I...yeah. Arius."

  "Then you're fine." She smiled. "It says Asha. Not Arius."

  He stared at her. Then at the carving. Then back at her.

  "Right," he said slowly. "Right. Different name."

  "Exactly."

  She started walking. She didn't know where. Just forward. She needed to find someone named Story. Needed to confirm what she already knew: this “Arius” guy was her target.

  "Where are you going?" Arius asked.

  "To find Story. Whoever that is."

  "I'll come with you."

  She didn't tell him no.

  They passed the boy helping the long-haired girl to her feet. Passed the older man who had stopped crying and started walking in a random direction. Passed families that didn't recognize each other anymore.

  Then the streets changed.

  Flashback, Industrial District Streets

  The people here were wrong. A soldier whose flesh rippled like water. A woman whose shadow moved on its own. A man who opened his mouth and light came out instead of sound.

  "We should go back," Arius said.

  "I need to find Story."

  "Look at them. Something's wrong with them."

  Shima kept walking. Her skin prickled. The air felt thick here. Heavy. The shifters around them gave off something. Not heat. Something else. Something that pressed against her skin and seeped into her bones.

  She didn't care.

  Arius felt it too. Every step closer to the broken people made his body ache in ways he couldn't explain. But Shima kept walking. And she was the only thing that made sense here. The only guide he had.

  So he followed.

  He grabbed her arm. "Stop. Please."

  She looked down. Her arm was bending in a way it shouldn't. Just barely. Just enough.

  She pulled free and kept walking.

  Arius followed. The radiation pressed harder. His skin felt wrong. But turning back alone felt worse.

  By the time they made it through, neither of them were fully human anymore.

  Shima looked at her hands. At the way her fingers flickered slightly at the edges.

  Worth it. She'd find Story eventually. And then she'd know for sure.

  Until then, Arius could stay close.

  It said Asha, after all. Not Arius.