The staircase spiraled downward into a void of stale air and silence. Each footstep echoed against the ancient stone, a reminder of how deep this place had been buried.
The walls were lined with cables, their protective sheathing worn away with time. Faint lights pulsed in uneven intervals, barely illuminating their descent. Whatever power still flowed through this place was running on borrowed time.
Kiera's thoughts churned. She could still hear Aerin's words echoing in her mind. You were leading us.
Her? A leader? The idea felt like a jagged puzzle piece that didn't quite fit. The Architects had taken everything from her—her memories, her choices. But something inside her stirred at the thought. Not resistance. Not fear.
Recognition.
Rhys moved beside her, silent but watchful. She could feel the weight of his unspoken thoughts pressing against her like an unseen force. He had known her only as a fugitive, someone fighting to escape the Architects' control. What did he see now? A stranger? A risk?
Or something more dangerous—someone who used to belong to this war.
At the bottom of the stairs, Aerin pressed a sequence into a rusted keypad. The door groaned open, revealing a chamber unlike anything Kiera had expected.
The space was enormous, stretching beyond what the dim emergency lights could reveal. Screens flickered along the walls, displaying maps, data streams, and archived footage. The air carried the scent of old electronics and dust, mingled with something metallic—like a faint trace of rusted blood.
A lone figure stood at the center, hunched over a console.
"Kiera."
The voice was rough with age but steady. The figure straightened, stepping into the light. A woman, her graying hair pulled into a loose braid, eyes sharp with recognition.
Kiera tensed.
"You know me?"
The woman nodded slowly. "I knew you. Before they took you." She glanced at Aerin. "I wasn't sure if they'd ever find you again."
Something inside Kiera clenched at those words.
"Then tell me," she said, her voice quieter than she intended. "Who was I?"
The woman exhaled, as if preparing for a storm. "You were the Architects' greatest mistake."
The words sent a shiver through her spine.
She took a step closer. "What does that mean?"
The woman gestured toward the nearest screen. It flickered to life, revealing a file.
PROJECT: RECLAMATION
SUBJECT: KIERA LORAN
STATUS: REPROGRAMMED
Beneath the text, a video feed played. A sterile room. White walls. A younger version of herself strapped to a chair, unmoving. Figures in dark coats moved around her, speaking in voices cold and clinical.
"Her neural resistance is higher than expected. We need to accelerate conditioning."
"Increase stimulus control. If she retains independent thought, she'll be a liability."
Kiera watched as the version of herself on the screen flinched, her fingers twitching against the restraints. The image burned into her mind—a forced transformation.
She had been fighting them.
The woman turned to her. "You were one of the last rebel commanders. The last person standing between the Architects and full control of the city. When they captured you, they realized they couldn't afford to kill you. So they rewired you instead."
Kiera's breath came shallow.
She pressed a hand to her temple. The whispers in her mind—the instincts, the implanted responses—were their doing. She wasn't broken. She had been rebuilt.
Rhys stepped forward, his jaw tight. "If she was a leader, then what did she know that was worth all of this?"
The woman hesitated. Then she turned back to the console, pressing a few keys. The map on the screen zoomed in on the city above them. A blinking marker appeared, deep within the Architects' sector.
"This."
Kiera frowned. "What is it?"
The woman's expression darkened.
"The truth they didn't want you to remember. The key to taking them down."
Kiera stared at the map.
Her past wasn't just a mystery.
It was the weapon she had been searching for.