Forty years passed.
The Red Halo incident, once the biggest shock in the nation, had become something people spoke about like an old legend. Schools taught it in small paragraphs. News channels mentioned it only on anniversaries. Most citizens had moved on.
But some stories don't die.
They wait.
And sometimes… they wait for the right person.
Reyan adjusted his backpack and stepped out of the small apartment he shared with his mother. The morning sun hit the metallic rooftops, reflecting thin blue lines of the city's network grid. Street drones floated above, scanning the area with gentle whirs.
He was nineteen.
Old enough to work.
Too young to understand the bigger system—at least that's what adults always told him.
Reyan didn't care about politics. He cared about earning money, helping his mom, and maybe one day moving to a better district. That was enough for him.
He walked toward the central plaza, where hundreds of people gathered every morning for network announcements. Floating screens showed updates from Ravi—the AI that managed almost everything now.
"Daily report completed," Ravi's calm voice said.
"Energy distribution normal. Crime rate stable. Public trust index: 72%."
Reyan barely listened.
He had heard these reports his entire life.
But then something unusual happened.
A screen flashed red.
For a moment, Reyan froze. He had only seen red alerts in history videos. The color made his stomach tighten without knowing why.
The screen switched back to blue just as quickly.
People around him whispered.
"Glitch?"
"No, the system never glitches."
"Is something happening?"
Reyan felt a strange chill.
Something about that red flash pulled a memory he didn't know he had.
He walked toward the small bookstore where he worked part-time. The owner, an old man named Dharam, was already sitting inside, cleaning dusty shelves.
"You're late," Dharam grunted.
"Sorry, sir," Reyan said and started arranging books.
After a few minutes, Dharam spoke again—this time softer.
"You saw the red flash, didn't you?"
Reyan paused. "Yeah… what was that?"
The old man sighed.
"Forty years, and still the system remembers him."
"Him?" Reyan asked.
Dharam looked at him—a long, heavy look.
"The youngest Pillar. The one who fell. Kiran."
Reyan frowned. "I've heard the story, but… wasn't that just history stuff?"
"History doesn't shake the present unless something wakes it," Dharam said.
Reyan wasn't sure what that meant.
He finished arranging the books and stepped outside for a break. The plaza was calmer now, but Reyan couldn't forget the red flash. It felt like a warning. Or a signal.
Suddenly, his wrist-device buzzed.
A message.
Unknown sender.
He opened it.
"If you want to know the truth about the Red Halo… come to the old southern depot tonight."
Reyan blinked.
Before he could respond, the message deleted itself.
Someone watching him?
Some kind of prank?
But his heart beat a little faster.
He didn't know why.
He didn't even know Kiran.
But something inside him whispered:
Go.
Reyan looked up at the sky, at the network lines glowing like thin lightning threads.
Maybe the legend wasn't over.
Maybe the system wasn't as quiet as it looked.
And maybe…
his real story was about to begin.