The bolt on the archive door rattled once.
Just once.
But it echoed down the stairwell like a warning.
Palo froze halfway up the stairs. "Ash… the bolt moved."
Ash turned sharply, eyes locked on the iron door. "No. The metal shifted because the archives went dark. It's pressure, not—"
Click.
The bolt twitched again.
Palo's stomach dropped. "Ash."
Ash grabbed Palo's arm firmly—not in fear, but in instinct.
"We're leaving. Now."
They moved up the stairs quickly, their footsteps bouncing off the damp stone walls. The air grew warmer the closer they got to the surface, but the chill of the archives clung to their clothes, like something had followed them in memory.
They reached the top and slipped through the slanted wooden hatch. Ash pulled it shut and dragged the collapsed pallets back over the entrance.
Palo stepped away, still shaking. "Please tell me that door doesn't open from the inside."
Ash didn't answer.
"Ash. Please."
"The bolt should keep it shut," he said quietly. "Should."
The word lingered like a shadow.
---
A Silent District
The fog outside was thicker now, muffling every sound. It swallowed the buildings, the streetlights, even the sky. The industrial yard felt different—emptier, as if anything alive had already fled.
Palo hugged his arms to his chest. "Are we safe here?"
"No." Ash scanned the fog, tension radiating off him. "But we're safer than we were down there."
Palo took a shaky breath. "What… what did we just hear in the archives? That whisper—"
Ash didn't let him finish.
"Forget the whisper."
"I can't!"
"I said forget it."
Palo stared at him, hurt flickering briefly across his expression. Ash noticed, guilt slipping into his voice.
"I'm not trying to shut you out," he said softly. "I'm trying to keep you alive. Whatever is in the archives… it doesn't follow the rules. It doesn't work like people do."
Palo swallowed. "What do you mean?"
Ash hesitated, then answered.
"My mother told me the archives remember every person who enters. They keep a part of you. A trace."
Palo felt a tremor run through him. "A trace like…?"
"Like your voice. Your footsteps. Maybe your thoughts."
Ash looked away. "She said the archives can whisper them back to you."
Palo's blood ran cold.
"So the whisper we heard—could it have been—"
"No," Ash said quickly. "It wasn't us. It wasn't anything human."
---
The Fog Shifts
A faint shuffle echoed through the yard.
Palo stiffened. "What was that?"
Ash motioned for silence.
They turned slowly toward the sound.
The fog parted for a moment—just a thin tear, like a curtain pulled by invisible hands.
Through the gap, Palo saw a silhouette.
Not the man from the greenhouse.
Someone smaller.
Still.
Standing beside a broken streetlight.
Ash inhaled sharply. "No. No, that's not possible."
Palo whispered, "Ash… who is that?"
Ash didn't blink.
"It's the boy from the file."
Palo's heart lurched. "The photo? The one who looked like you?"
Ash's voice shook, barely audible.
"That was me."
The silhouette didn't move. It stood with its head tilted slightly, watching them with a stillness that felt unnatural — like a reflection that had stepped out of a mirror.
Palo whispered, "Ash… that can't be you. You're right here. You're—"
"I know," Ash said, voice thin. "That's why this is wrong."
The silhouette took one slow step forward.
Palo backed up. "Ash, we need to run."
Ash didn't move. He stared at the figure, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.
The fog closed again, swallowing the silhouette whole.
The yard became empty.
Silent.
Palo grabbed Ash's sleeve. "Ash, come on—we can't stay here!"
Ash finally stepped back.
"You're right."
---
A Dangerous Realization
They jogged toward the street that led out of the industrial district. As they crossed between two abandoned warehouses, Palo said:
"That thing… whatever it was… why did it look like you?"
Ash's jaw clenched.
"My mother used to say the archives hold more than files."
His voice lowered.
"They hold versions of people. Memories frozen in time. Shadows of what once was."
Palo felt the air grow colder despite the fog thinning slightly.
"So that boy was a shadow of you?"
Ash shook his head.
"No. That wasn't a shadow."
His pace slowed.
"That was a warning."
Palo stared at him. "From who?"
Ash looked straight ahead, eyes dark and distant.
"From the archives."