Ash stood frozen with the note in his hand, the warning burning through him like ice.
Do not trust the boy who looks like you.
Palo felt his throat tighten.
"What does that mean? That… that thing from the fog is dangerous?"
Ash didn't answer. He stared at the hallway where the dragging sound had vanished, his eyes sharp and distant.
Finally, he said quietly:
"He's not just a memory. He's not a hallucination."
A breath.
"He's something the archives created."
Palo stepped back. "Created? Ash… they're files, not laboratories."
Ash looked at him — truly looked — his expression stripped of every mask.
"The archives don't just store information, Palo. They rewrite it."
Palo's heartbeat quickened. "Rewrite… people?"
"Rewrite what people were," Ash said. "What they could've been. What they never became."
He swallowed hard.
"He looks like me because… he's a version of me the archives kept."
Palo's hands trembled. "Then why would he follow us out here?"
Ash lowered his gaze to the note.
"To replace me."
Palo's skin crawled. "You think he wants to BE you?"
Ash didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
---
The Search Begins
Ash brushed past Palo and moved toward the hallway, scanning every shadow.
Palo grabbed his sleeve. "Ash, wait—what if he's still inside the house?"
Ash stopped, just for a moment.
"If he wanted to hurt us, he could've done it already."
"That doesn't make me feel better!" Palo hissed.
Ash turned back toward the living room, eyes narrowed in thought.
"He didn't come to attack us," Ash said. "He came to send a message."
Palo stared at the dark hallway. "Or a threat."
Ash's jaw tightened. "We need answers. And there's only one place they'd be."
Palo felt dread coil in his stomach. "Where?"
Ash pointed toward the stairs.
"The upstairs study."
Palo blinked. "Why would he leave anything there?"
Ash didn't respond at first.
Then:
"Because that room holds the truth my mother tried to hide."
---
The Stairs
They moved up the staircase quietly. The wood groaned beneath their feet, each step echoing through the house.
Halfway up, Palo whispered, "Ash… what if he's up there?"
Ash didn't slow. "Then he wants us to follow."
Palo's voice shook. "And that's… good?"
"No," Ash said. "But we don't have another choice."
At the top of the stairs, the hallway stretched out in two directions, lined with peeling wallpaper and doors that hung slightly open — as if someone had checked each room already.
Palo's eyes darted between the doorways. "Ash… something's wrong."
Ash nodded. "The house was searched."
By who?
The man who hunted them?
The boy from the archives?
Someone else entirely?
Palo didn't want to know. Not really.
But Ash kept moving.
---
The Study Door
The study was at the end of the hallway, its door slightly ajar.
A cold draft seeped from the crack.
Ash placed his hand on the door and pushed.
The room inside was small and crowded with shelves of old journals, dusty notebooks, and maps pinned to the walls. A single desk sat in the corner beneath a broken lamp.
Palo stepped in behind him. "This was your mother's workspace?"
Ash nodded once.
But the room wasn't untouched.
Pages were scattered across the floor.
Drawers yanked open.
Books overturned.
Someone had searched it violently.
Palo crouched near the scattered papers. "Ash… someone was looking for something."
Ash walked straight to the desk.
"Not something," he said quietly. "Someone."
Palo's breath caught. "You?"
Ash didn't deny it.
He reached into the top drawer — the only one still intact — and pulled out a notebook bound in soft leather.
His mother's handwriting was on the cover.
Palo leaned over. "Is that… a diary?"
"No," Ash whispered. "It's a logbook."
He opened it carefully.
Inside were pages of notes — dates, names, observations, warnings.
But Palo's eyes were drawn to the ones near the beginning.
A single heading repeated across several pages:
SUBJECT ELEVEN — DAILY NOTES
Palo's stomach twisted.
"Ash… these are about you."
But Ash wasn't reading them.
His eyes were fixed on the middle of the book —
a section marked with a torn scrap of fabric as a bookmark.
"What's there?" Palo whispered.
Ash turned the page.
His expression broke.
Not with fear.
Not with anger.
With something quieter.
Something like hurt.
Palo moved closer.
The page showed two photographs, side by side.
One was Ash as a child.
The other was the boy from the fog.
Palo's breath shook. "Ash… they look identical."
Ash swallowed hard.
"No," he said quietly.
"Look closer."
Palo leaned in.
He saw it.
The eyes.
Ash's childhood eyes were scared… but alive.
The other boy's eyes were empty.
Hollow.
Like someone had erased something human from them.
Ash turned the page again.
A short note was written in urgent handwriting:
"The copy is incomplete.
It is looking for the original."
Palo felt fear crawl up his spine.
"Ash… what does that mean?"
Ash closed the notebook slowly.
"That he's been searching for me for years."
"And now he's found you," Palo whispered.
Ash looked at him — truly looked — his eyes dark and afraid for the first time.
"No," he said.
"He's found us."
---