"I don't know if I like it," Lyric said, looking at the silver pendant in their palm. "But I don't see another option."
Rook hopped off the crate, his boots splashing in the shallow water of the drainage tunnel. He reached out to take the pendant, then hesitated. He pulled his hand back.
"Right," Rook muttered. "No touching. You hold it. Let me look at the clasp."
Rook leaned in, adjusting his goggles. "Yeah, see that tiny blue light pulsing inside the crack? That's the beacon. It's got a rhythm. It's definitely talking to the Guild."
"So how do we trick them?" Lyric asked. "If I just leave it here, they'll find it and keep searching."
"We need to make it move," Rook said, looking around the tunnel. "Make them think you're running in the opposite direction. Then, while they're chasing a ghost, we slip out to the Graveyards."
Rook waded over to a rusted pipe jutting out of the wall. Water was gushing out of it with serious force, swirling into a dark, rapid current that disappeared deeper into the earth.
"The Main Artery," Rook said, pointing at the water. "This flush flows all the way down to the filtering plant in Sector 8. That's miles from the Graveyards. It moves fast."
Lyric looked at the dark water, then at the pendant.
Silas had called it a Damper. An anchor. He said the Silents used it to keep from losing their minds.
"Rook," Lyric said, voice tight. "Silas said this thing keeps me sane. What happens if I let it go?"
Rook looked up, his expression serious for once. "I don't know, boss. But Silas also said the guys chasing us are 'Silents.' You saw what they did to him. They erased his brain just by waving a hand. If they catch up to us, being sane won't matter because you'll be dead."
Lyric gripped the silver metal. It was cold, but it felt steady. It made the world feel solid.
"You're right," Lyric said.
"You sure?" Rook asked. "You look pale."
"Just do it before I change my mind."
Lyric stepped up to the edge of the rushing water. They held the pendant over the current.
Goodbye, anchor.
Lyric dropped it.
The silver circle hit the black water with a small splash and was instantly swept away, vanishing into the darkness of the tunnel.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then, the noise started.
It wasn't a sound Lyric heard with their ears. It was a hum inside their skull. It started as a low buzz, like a fly trapped in a jar, and quickly ramped up to a dull roar. It felt like standing next to a massive, invisible speaker.
Lyric stumbled, grabbing the slick wall for support. "Woah."
"You okay?" Rook asked, reaching out to steady Lyric, then remembering the rule and pulling back. "Hey! Veyne! focus!"
"It's… loud," Lyric gasped, pressing the palms of their hands against their temples. "The quiet is gone."
"That's the city," Rook said, grimacing. "That's the memory static. You don't have your shield anymore. You're feeling the raw feed."
"It hurts," Lyric whispered.
"We gotta move," Rook said, looking back the way they came. "The Silents are gonna follow that signal down the drain, but they aren't stupid. They'll figure it out eventually. We need to be gone by then."
Lyric pushed off the wall. The headache was blinding, but Rook was right. Survival first.
"Lead the way," Lyric rasped.
The journey to the Outskirts took hours.
They moved through the maintenance tunnels until the air turned from damp and moldy to dry and dusty. The walls changed from brick to jagged layers of compressed trash—plastic, metal, and glass fused together by time and pressure.
As they walked, the "static" in Lyric's head shifted.
In the city tunnels, it had been an angry buzz. Out here, it was becoming… emotional.
Lyric felt sudden waves of sadness that weren't theirs. Then a spike of joy. Then a crushing sense of regret. It was like walking through a crowded room where everyone was whispering their secrets at once.
"So," Rook said, breaking the silence. He was breathing hard, his backpack bouncing against his shoulders. "Unit 7, huh?"
Lyric winced. "Don't call me that."
"Sorry. It's just… pretty hardcore." Rook kicked a loose stone. "I always thought the Silents were just stories. Boogeymen the brokers made up to scare people into paying their debts. 'Pay up or the Silent comes to wipe the slate.'"
"I was one of them," Lyric said, the guilt hitting harder than the headache. "I probably hurt a lot of people, Rook."
"Maybe," Rook said with a shrug. "But you saved Silas from getting killed. And you didn't erase me. People change. Or, you know, they forget who they were and become someone else."
Lyric looked at the kid. "You're taking this really well. I'm a walking weapon."
"Hey, in the Slags, a weapon is a good friend to have," Rook said, grinning. "Besides, you owe me a new coat. That canvas one is looking rough."
Lyric looked down. The coat was torn at the elbow from the fight, and covered in sewer mud.
"We're almost there," Rook said, pointing ahead.
The tunnel ended abruptly, opening up into a massive, cavernous space.
Lyric stopped and stared.
It looked like the world had ended here.
They were standing on a ridge overlooking a vast valley of junk. But it wasn't normal trash. It was mountains of discarded memory drives, broken projection units, and shattered vials. The ground glittered with blue glass shards.
A thick, gray fog hung over the valley, swirling lazily.
"Welcome to the Memory Graveyards," Rook said quietly. "Where the city throws the stuff nobody wants to remember."
"It's huge," Lyric whispered.
"Yeah. And it's leaking," Rook said. "You see that fog? That's evaporated memory fluid. Don't breathe it in too deep, or you'll start hallucinating your grandma's birthday party."
Lyric took a step forward, and the "static" in their head screamed.
I didn't mean to do it!
Please, just one more day.
I hate him. I hate him.
Why did she leave?
The voices weren't whispers anymore. They were shouts.
Lyric fell to their knees, clutching their head. "Make it stop!"
"Veyne!" Rook yelled.
"It's too much!" Lyric squeezed their eyes shut. "They're all screaming!"
"It's the lack of the pendant," Rook said, panic creeping into his voice. "The Graveyard is full of 'Unstable' memories. Without the damper, you're acting like a lightning rod."
"I can't… I can't think…" Lyric gasped. The emotions were overwhelming. A thousand heartbreaks crashing into them at once.
"Okay, okay, listen to me," Rook said, crouching down but keeping his distance. "You need to focus on one thing. Find a real thing. Look at me."
Lyric forced their eyes open. Rook's face was blurry, swimming in tears that weren't Lyric's.
"I'm real," Rook said firmly. "The mud on your boots is real. The hunger in your stomach is real. The rest is just noise. Block it out."
Lyric gritted their teeth. I am Lyric Veyne. I am here. I am fleeing the Guild.
Slowly, the voices dialed back down to a dull roar. It was still there, agonizing and heavy, but manageable.
Lyric stood up, swaying. "We can't stay here. It's going to drive me crazy."
"We just need to cross the valley," Rook said, pointing to a dark structure on the far side, barely visible through the fog. "See that tower? That's the Old Lighthouse. My contact said there's a signal jammer there. If we get inside, it should block the noise and the Guild trackers."
"A jammer," Lyric breathed. "That sounds like heaven."
"It's a hike, though," Rook said. "And the Graveyard isn't empty. There are… things that live in the junk. Scavengers. Mutants. People who inhaled too much fog."
"Let's go," Lyric said, wiping their face. "Before I lose it again."
They picked their way down the ridge, sliding on piles of loose plastic.
The valley floor was eerie. The silence of the physical world clashed with the noise in Lyric's head. Every time they stepped on a broken vial, a flash of an image would spike in Lyric's mind—a red ball bouncing, a rainy window, a bloody nose.
"Watch your step," Rook warned. "Some of these piles are unstable."
They navigated through a canyon of crushed cars. The fog swirled around their ankles.
"Rook," Lyric said softly. "Why are you helping me? You could have run away when the Silents showed up. You don't owe me anything."
Rook adjusted his backpack straps. He didn't look back.
"My sister," he said.
"What?"
"My sister was a 'Memory Merchant,'" Rook said, his voice flat. "She sold bits of her childhood to pay for our rent. One day, she sold too much. She forgot who I was. She forgot to eat. She just… faded."
Rook stopped and looked at a pile of broken monitors.
"The Guilds profit off that," Rook said, spitting on the ground. "They treat memories like cash, and people like wallets. You? You erase things. You break the system. You made that drone disappear like it was nothing. If you can hurt the Guild… then I'm with you."
Lyric looked at the kid's back. He wasn't just a scavenger. He was a soldier in a war Lyric didn't even know was happening.
"I'll do my best," Lyric said.
"Shh," Rook hissed, freezing in place.
He crouched low. "Did you hear that?"
"I hear a million things, Rook. Be specific."
"Crunching," Rook whispered. "Heavy footsteps. Not human."
Lyric focused. Through the mental static, there was a physical vibration. Thump. Thump. Thump.
It was coming from behind a wall of rusted shipping containers.
"Hide," Lyric mouthed.
They ducked behind the chassis of an old truck.
A figure emerged from the fog.
It was massive—at least seven feet tall. It looked human, but wrong. Its skin was gray and patchy, covered in glowing blue veins. It wore rags made of stitched-together canvas.
But the terrifying part was its face.
It didn't have eyes. Where the eyes should have been, two glowing blue memory vials were jammed into the sockets.
"Fog-Eater," Rook breathed, his voice barely audible. "Junkie mutant. They hunt for fresh memories to consume."
The creature sniffed the air. It turned its head, the blue vials glowing brighter.
"Empty…" the creature groaned. Its voice sounded wet and gurgling. "I smell… empty."
It turned directly toward their hiding spot.
"It smells me," Lyric realized. "It smells the void."
"It wants to fill the hole," Rook whispered, terrified. "If it grabs you, it'll try to inject its own madness into you."
The creature roared—a sound of pure hunger—and charged.