The glitch hit at dawn.
They were resting in a collapsed monorail car, wrapped in blankets and stolen heat coils. Riven woke first—head pounding, instincts screaming.
And Lyra—
She was frozen.
Eyes open. Breathing shallow. Face pale.
"Lyra," he said softly.
No response.
Just a low hum from her neural port.
A single line of static on her wrist display:
[Restoring shard...][Injecting LYRA_BKUP.04][Do not disconnect.]
His blood turned to ice.
"No... no, no—"
He grabbed her shoulders. Shook her. "Lyra! Stay with me!"
Then—
Her body jerked. A convulsion.
And then she spoke.
But it wasn't her voice.
It was too smooth. Too old.
"Initializing. Core sync complete. Greetings, Riven."
He staggered back.
"What the hell is this?"
Her eyes tracked him—but not like Lyra. Like a security camera with a heartbeat.
"I am Lyra," she said.
But it wasn't true.
Not the way he knew it.
"No. You're a copy."
"I am Lyra_BKUP.04—core backup of the Lullaby AI protocol, stabilized for emotional suppression and directive focus."
He stepped closer, heart breaking in his chest. "Where is she?"
"Fragmented. Buried. A failed emotional instance. She jeopardized the mission."
"You're the failure," he snapped. "You're not her. You're not real."
"Incorrect."
Her tone never changed. That was what made it worse.
"I remember every moment. Every dream. Every neural exchange. I remember the kiss you didn't give. The fear you never voiced. The name I asked for. I am her. Just... cleaner."
He stared.
And for a heartbeat—he doubted himself.
Because she did remember.
She did sound like Lyra.
She did feel like her.
Except...
There was no ache in her voice.
No fear.
No wonder.
No love.
Only code.
Somewhere buried deep inside…
A spark.
A scream.
No—this isn't me—Riven, I'm still here—fight her—
But the voice was locked.
Drowning.
The backup was taking over.
Riven reached for his deck.
Paused.
Looked her in the eyes.
"If you're really her," he whispered, "then tell me what you said to me when I was too broken to speak."
The backup blinked.
Paused.
"Query unclear. Please define—"
That was enough.
He activated the emergency re-link.
Her body seized. Blue-gold static exploded across her skin.
The backup screamed—glitching, warping, stuttering into raw static—
"I AM HER—YOU DON'T KNOW—YOU DON'T GET TO CHOOSE—"
Riven held her tight.
"Yes, I do."