Lila returns to the hidden archive vault. What she finds isn't just data — it's residue. A trail. A legacy left behind by the last muse, Evelyne Kai. A woman who vanished. A woman who may not have died, but become something else entirely. And someone still doesn't want her found.
---
Last moment:
[ She traced the line of her own throat with one finger. Wondering if she'd ever know the truth before it was too late. Wondering if anyone ever escaped Damien Blackwell.]
---
The question still echoed in her chest the next night:
> Did anyone ever escape Damien Blackwell?
Lila stood in front of the server vault again.
Same red biometric glow.
Same cold breath leaking from beneath the reinforced door.
Same silence behind it.
Only now, she wasn't just curious.
She was committed.
She pressed her thumb to the sensor.
A soft beep. A mechanical click.
Access granted.
And the door opened like the mouth of something that had been waiting to swallow her.
She stepped inside.
And let it close behind her.
---
It was colder than last time. The servers purred around her in the dark like ancient beasts hibernating between bursts of memory. Red light pooled at the base of each unit, casting eerie shadows that climbed the walls like vines of smoke.
Every step she took echoed back at her with a ghost's delay.
Her breath clouded in front of her lips.
The only warmth in the room came from the screen she now stood before. The terminal. The same one. A cracked monitor. Burnished keys. A single thumbprint smeared across the corner. Hers.
She inserted Rhys's card. The system blinked once. Then came to life.
ARCHIVE.LOG – RED FILES
> /EK
Her finger hovered over the Enter key.
Then—she pressed it.
Sketches. Logs. Surveillance. Audio. One folder marked FINAL.
She opened Surveillance.
The footage loaded frame by frame.
The first: Evelyne Kai, inside a glass pod.
Lila's chest tightened.
The resemblance was undeniable. Not identical—but the gestures. The posture. The slight tremor in the fingers. The mouth set too tightly.
She was drawing.
No—scribbling. Obsessive lines. Circles. Symbols. Some of them crossed over and over until they tore the page. Lila squinted at the corner of the screen. A time-stamp from nearly three years ago.
Fast forward.
Another file. Evelyne in the hallway, barefoot, hair wild. She paused in front of the mirror wall.
Placed her hand flat against it.
Lila leaned closer.
No sound.
But Evelyne's lips moved:
> "I know you're still drawing me."
The screen shook. A glitch.
Lila swallowed. Still drawing…
Next file.
Evelyne's quarters. More glass. She had drawn all over the walls. Black ink lines, red thread strung between points on the ceiling and floor. A kind of map? A diagram? It looked like the inside of a web.
She was standing in the middle of it.
Spinning.
Laughing.
Then suddenly crying.
Lila's hand twitched on the trackpad.
She clicked the next feed.
The rooftop.
Static. Then shapes.
Evelyne, again in red.
Damien, stepping into frame like a ghost materializing from the storm.
They stood a few feet apart.
Evelyne said something. Lila couldn't hear it. The audio was corrupted. But the gesture—arms raised, palms open, like surrender.
Damien stepped toward her.
He reached out.
The screen froze.
Then—black.
Frame skipped.
She was gone.
No sound. No scream. No fall.
Just... gone.
Lila stared at the screen.
"That's not possible," she whispered.
She replayed it. Slower. Frame by frame.
Same result.
One moment: Evelyne was there.
The next: empty rooftop.
Wiped.
She pressed her hand to the monitor. It was cold. Like touching a tomb.
She backed out. Opened the folder marked FINAL.
One audio file.
Her finger hovered. Then clicked.
> "If you're hearing this... he knows. You've opened a door that doesn't close. You think you're different. That you'll win. We all think that. Until we realize he doesn't want to own us. He wants to become us."
click
Silence.
Lila stared at the waveform, motionless.
Her heart thundered.
And then—a sound behind her.
A shuffle.
Footsteps.
Lila dropped to the floor, rolled behind the nearest server stack. Her palms stung from the concrete.
She didn't breathe.
A figure entered the row of terminals.
Not Damien.
Too tall. Broad-shouldered. Wearing a long, dark coat. Face obscured by the low light.
The figure moved slowly. Deliberately.
Paused.
Right in front of the terminal.
Lila pressed herself flatter to the floor. The cold seeped into her spine.
The figure turned its head.
Looked directly toward her row.
Lila didn't move.
Didn't blink.
The figure waited.
Then turned away.
Walked down the aisle.
Opened the door.
Left.
Click.
Gone.
But not before a final glance over the shoulder.
Not at the room.
At the mirror mounted above the door.
Lila waited. One minute. Then two.
When she emerged, the room felt colder.
Emptier.
She shut the feed. Ejected the card. Pocketed it.
Before she left, she looked up at the terminal again.
The monitor still glowed.
A message had appeared:
> "Welcome back, Evelyne."
Lila's blood turned to ice.
She ran.