Darkness.
Then static.
Then breath.
Isla's mind breached the threshold.
She wasn't in the real world anymore. She floated in a churning ocean of raw neural code—light and memory entwined, spiking, looping, pulsing. Voices drifted by in whispers, some hers, some Elijah's, and others… unmistakably Ghost's.
"What are you willing to forget… to win?"
She drifted deeper.
The mindscape formed slowly—fragments stitching together, carving out a jagged city of memories. Streets paved with old fears. Buildings constructed from regret. Windows flashing with lies told long ago.
She stepped onto the shifting terrain.
"Elijah?" she called.
No answer.
"You shouldn't have come here, Seed."
Ghost's voice.
It came from everywhere—and nowhere.
Isla turned, bracing herself. "You're just code."
"And you are just a girl born from stolen potential."
A figure emerged—a silhouette formed from smoke and fractal geometry. Its eyes were digital scars, burning with synthetic malice.
Ghost's shard.
"You think you can overwrite me. But this is my world now. His heart is weak. His faith in himself—broken. And broken minds are mine."
Suddenly, the world twisted.
The buildings collapsed in reverse. Flames crawled upward. The sky turned into a memory—a painful one.
Isla saw herself, young, in her mother's arms. But instead of love, Aurora's face was filled with fear.
> "You were a mistake," Ghost whispered through the scene. "A failed merger of ambition and desperation."
"No," Isla said.
The image flickered.
She focused, pushing with her mind.
The world shifted again—this time by her will. The buildings rebuilt, this time glowing blue. A heartbeat throbbed through the digital air.
"You're rewriting."
"I'm reminding him who he is."
Behind her, a door appeared—simple, wooden, flickering at the edges.
Isla stepped through.
She found herself in Elijah's core memory: his childhood home.
Rain fell softly outside the window. A young version of Elijah sat at the table, trying to fix a shattered toy with trembling hands.
Isla approached gently. "Elijah?"
The boy looked up. "Do I know you?"
"I'm your friend."
He frowned. "I don't remember. I'm always alone."
"You're not anymore."
She placed her hand over his. The broken toy shimmered, then reassembled itself—piece by piece.
Behind them, the house cracked.
Ghost's presence boiled beneath the memory, trying to disrupt the bond.
"He doesn't deserve you."
Isla turned to face him.
"He deserves a choice."
She reached into her own memory, pulling out a bright shard—a glowing string of blue light, her core. The essence of her mind.
She offered it to the child.
"Take this. It'll keep you safe."
The boy hesitated, then nodded, absorbing it.
Suddenly—he changed.
The boy blinked—and Elijah stood before her, whole.
He gasped. "Isla?"
She smiled. "You're back."
Ghost screamed in fury.
The world collapsed around them as Isla grabbed Elijah's hand.
"Time to go home."
They woke up—gasping—in the real world.
Alarms blared.
Aurora rushed in. "What happened?"
Isla pulled off the interface node. "We got him back. He's clean."
Xander stared at the screen. "Ghost's signature… gone."
Lucien smiled, weakly. "You did it."
But then—Isla staggered.
Aurora caught her. "What is it?"
Isla's voice was faint.
"I left… a part of myself behind."
Everyone stared.
"A guardian thread. In case Ghost tries to return."
Lucien's eyes narrowed. "You fragmented your mind?"
Isla looked up, her pupils shimmering faintly.
"Someone has to watch the shadows."