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Eidolon Nexus: Echoes of Memory

Author: 

  • LightBringer

Caution: 

  • CAUTION: Sex / Sexual Scenes
  • CAUTION: Violence

Audience Rating: 

  • Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication: 

  • Fiction
  • Novel > 40,000 words
  • Novel Chapter

Genre: 

  • Transgender
  • Crossdressing
  • Transformations
  • Magic
  • Fantasy Worlds
  • Science Fiction
  • Other Worlds
  • Adventure
  • Comedy
  • Erotica
  • Horror
  • Mystery or Suspense
  • Romance

Character Age: 

  • College / Twenties

TG Themes: 

  • Amnesia
  • Identity Crisis
  • Romantic

TG Elements: 

  • Identity Theft
  • Memory Loss
  • Mmorpg / Virtual Reality
  • Shopping

Other Keywords: 

  • Eidolon Nexus

Permission: 

  • Posted by author(s)

A woman wakes in an alley with no name, no memories, and a haunting sense that something is terribly wrong. But one word stirs something deep Artemis. With only that name and flashes of strange things, she’s thrust into a world she doesn’t recognize. As she searches for clues to her identity and what happened to her it becomes clear her past isn’t just lost… it may be dangerous.
63552816-4D96-4882-A2B3-524242FA9F64.jpeg
This story is a follow up story to Eidolon Nexus: The Shattered Realm however it is not necessary to read the previous story if you don’t want to as with the main character having no memory it works if you have or haven’t read it. If you do wish to see the first story you can read it here https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/book-page/104648/eidolon-nexu...

Early access to new chapters, stories, and more plus votes and non canon XXX chapters here https://www.patreon.com/LightBringerStories?utm_campaign=cre...

Eidolon Nexus: Echoes of Memory Chapter 1 Who Am I?

Author: 

  • LightBringer

Caution: 

  • CAUTION: Violence

Audience Rating: 

  • Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication: 

  • Fiction
  • Novel > 40,000 words
  • Novel Chapter

Genre: 

  • Transgender
  • Crossdressing
  • Magic
  • Fantasy Worlds
  • Science Fiction
  • Other Worlds
  • Adventure
  • Comedy
  • Horror
  • Mystery or Suspense
  • Romance

Character Age: 

  • College / Twenties

TG Themes: 

  • Amnesia
  • Identity Crisis
  • Romantic

TG Elements: 

  • Memory Loss
  • Mmorpg / Virtual Reality
  • Shopping
  • Slice of Life

Other Keywords: 

  • Eidolon Nexus

Permission: 

  • Posted by author(s)

A woman wakes in an alley with no name, no memories, and a haunting sense that something is terribly wrong. But one word stirs something deep Artemis. With only that name and flashes of strange things, she’s thrust into a world she doesn’t recognize. As she searches for clues to her identity and what happened to her it becomes clear her past isn’t just lost… it may be dangerous.
63552816-4D96-4882-A2B3-524242FA9F64.jpeg
This story is a follow up story to Eidolon Nexus: The Shattered Realm however it is not necessary to read the previous story if you don’t want to as with the main character having no memory it works if you have or haven’t read it. If you do wish to see the first story you can read it here https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/book-page/104648/eidolon-nexu...

Early access to new chapters, stories, and more plus votes and non canon XXX chapters here https://www.patreon.com/LightBringerStories?utm_campaign=cre...

Chapter 1
The fluorescent lights hum softly overhead, casting a sterile glow across the emergency room. The faint scent of antiseptic lingers in the air, mixing with the quiet murmur of voices from other patients waiting to be seen.

I stand at the reception desk, gripping the edge of the counter as I try to steady my breath.

The woman behind the desk—mid-forties, tired eyes, polite but detached—stares at me expectantly. “You said you woke up in an alley?”

I nod. “Yeah. I don’t—” My throat tightens. I don’t know how to finish that sentence.

She glances at her computer screen, clicking through something before looking back at me. “Do you have any identification?”

I shake my head.

“Your name?”

Silence.

My mouth opens slightly, but nothing comes out.

I don’t know.

The realization hits like a punch to the gut. My pulse spikes, panic creeping in. I try to grasp at something, any fragment, any clue—who am I? Where did I come from?

Nothing.

The receptionist watches me carefully now, her tired expression shifting to mild concern. “You don’t remember?”

I swallow hard. “No.”

“Not even your name?”

I shake my head again, my fingers curling against the countertop.

She exhales through her nose, nodding slowly, like she’s seen this before. “Alright. You might have dissociative amnesia. It’s not uncommon in cases of extreme stress or trauma.” She types something into her computer. “Do you remember anything at all? Any faces? A place? A feeling?”

A feeling.

Something tugs at the back of my mind, distant but there.

Not a memory—just an impression. A sensation.

Like I’ve lost something important.

But when I try to focus on it, it slips away.

“I…” My voice is hoarse. “I don’t know.”

She nods again, clicking more keys. “Alright, we’ll have a doctor see you as soon as possible. In the meantime, just take a seat.”

I turn away from the desk, my legs feeling unsteady as I walk toward the waiting area.

I don’t know my name.

I don’t know where I came from.

I don’t know who I am.

And somehow… I feel like I’m running out of time to figure it out.

“Ma’am, the doctor is ready for you.”

I blink, pulled from my thoughts as a nurse stands near the doorway, holding a clipboard. Her voice is gentle but professional, like she’s dealt with this kind of situation before.

I hesitate before standing, my legs still feeling unsteady beneath me. As I follow her through the hallway, the sounds of the ER fade behind us—the quiet murmur of voices, the beeping of monitors, the distant chatter of nurses at their station.

She leads me into a small examination room. It smells of disinfectant, and the paper covering the patient bed crinkles as I sit down.

“We’ll have the doctor in shortly,” she says with a small nod before stepping out, leaving me alone with the silence.

I stare at the floor, my mind racing.

Who am I?

I close my eyes, trying again to pull something—anything—from the void in my memory.

Nothing.

Just the same nagging feeling that something is missing.

No names. No places. Nothing. No one.

Just emptiness.

I press my hands against my temples, willing something—anything—to come back to me. But there’s nothing to grab onto, nothing solid. Just a void where my past should be.

My chest tightens. How can someone just wake up like this? How does a person exist with no history, no sense of self?

The door opens, and I quickly drop my hands, forcing myself to sit up straight.

A doctor steps in, flipping through a chart. “You’re the one who came in without ID or memory, correct?”

I nod stiffly.

He hums, scanning the notes. “No visible injuries, no signs of a head wound…” He looks up, meeting my gaze. “Do you feel any pain? Headaches? Dizziness?”

I shake my head.

“Do you remember anything before waking up?”

I want to say yes. I want to tell him something that makes sense.

But I can’t.

“…No.”

He studies me for a moment before setting the chart aside. “Alright. We’ll run some tests to rule out anything medical. But cases like this are usually psychological—severe stress, trauma. Memory loss like this is rare, but not impossible.”

Stress? Trauma? It’s not like I’d know if I’d been through something awful.

He continues, “For now, we’ll keep you here for observation. If nothing changes, we’ll help connect you with services that can assist in finding out who you are.”

I nod, but my hands grip the fabric of my clothes tightly.

No names. No places. Nothing. No one.

Just me.

Whoever that is.

The doctor nods, making a few more notes before standing. “Alright, let’s get started. Just follow me.”

I stand slowly, still feeling that strange disconnect between myself and my body—like I should know how this feels, but it’s all unfamiliar.

The halls blur as I walk, the bright fluorescent lights above buzzing faintly. Nurses pass by, voices blending into background noise. I don’t pay attention to where we’re going until I’m seated in a small examination room.

They run a series of tests—checking my reflexes, my pupils, asking simple questions that I should be able to answer.

“What year is it?”

I hesitate. My mouth opens, but no words come out. I don’t know.

The doctor doesn’t react, just notes it down and moves on.

“Do you recognize yourself in the mirror?”

They hold one up, and I look.

Green eyes. Long blonde hair. A face I should know but don’t.

I nod stiffly. It’s not a lie. I recognize the reflection—just not who she is.

More tests. More waiting. Eventually, they take me to a hospital room.

It’s small. Quiet. Sterile.

I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the IV stand in the corner, the machine next to it displaying vitals that don’t mean anything to me.

No names. No places. Nothing. No one.

Just me.

And I still don’t know who that is.

“I’m going to prescribe you some medicine that helps boost memory function,” the doctor says, scribbling something on his notepad. “And Nurse Emily is going to try some mental exercises with you to see if we can trigger anything.”

I nod slowly. “Okay.”

With that, he turns and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him.

A moment later, the nurse—Emily—steps forward, a warm but professional smile on her face. She’s holding a thick baby name book, the kind expectant parents flip through when deciding what to call their child.

“Alright, sweetie,” she says, pulling up a chair. “I thought we could go through some names and see if any of them sound familiar to you.”

I swallow, nodding. “Sure.”

“We’ll start with some of the most popular ones, okay?” She flips the book open and begins reading.

“Olivia… Emma… Charlotte… Sophia… Amelia… Evelyn… Abigail…”

She pauses, watching my face. I shake my head. Nothing.

She continues.

“Liam… Noah… Oliver… Elijah… James… Benjamin… Lucas…”

The names all blur together, meaningless sounds without connection.

I exhale sharply. “I don’t know. None of them feel… right.”

Emily gives me a reassuring smile. “That’s okay, sweetie. We’ll keep going, alright?”

She flips another page.

“Let’s try some more.”

“Ava… Ariel… Aubrey… Addison… Alice… Allison…”

I shake my head at each one. Nothing. No spark of recognition, no flicker of familiarity. Just empty words.

“Autumn… Arya… Alex—”

She pauses, glancing up at me. “Is that it? You made a face when I said Alex.”

I hesitate, frowning. “I don’t think so…” My fingers tighten slightly on the thin hospital blanket. But it sounds familiar.

Not like it belongs to me, not like it’s my name. But there’s something there, buried beneath the fog.

Emily nods, jotting something down. “Alright, that’s a start. Let’s keep going, okay?”

She flips the page.

“Let’s try a few more A names.”

She continues.

“Alexa… Alexandra… Alexis… Anastasia… Andrea… Angela… Anna… Aurora… Athena… Audrey…”

I listen carefully, waiting for something—anything—to stand out.

Then—

“Artemis…”

My breath catches.

“Say that again.”

Emily looks up from the book, surprised by my reaction. “Artemis?”

The name lingers in the air, heavier than the others.

I don’t know why, but it feels… closer. Like a word on the tip of my tongue, something I should know but can’t quite reach.

I frown, trying to grasp onto it, but my mind is still blank.

“It… sounds right,” I say slowly. “Or familiar, at least.”

Emily’s expression softens. “That’s a good sign. Maybe it’s your name, or maybe it’s connected to something important.”

I nod, even though it doesn’t bring me any closer to remembering who I am.

But it’s something.

A single thread in the emptiness.

Emily taps her pen against the notepad. “Do you want to try more names, or should we sit with this one for a moment?”

I hesitate, then shake my head. “I think I want to stay with this one for now.”

She smiles. “Alright, Artemis. Let’s see if we can figure out the rest of you.”

Emily nods, closing the baby name book and setting it aside. “Alright, Artemis,” she says, testing the name like she’s trying to make it stick. “Let’s see if we can figure out the rest of you.”

Hearing it out loud makes my chest tighten. It feels right, but also… wrong. Like I’m wearing something that belongs to me but fits differently than it should.

I shift uncomfortably on the hospital bed. “Artemis,” I repeat under my breath. It doesn’t unlock anything, no flood of memories, no sudden clarity—just that same familiarity.

Emily watches me carefully. “Do you want to try saying your full name?”

My heart stutters.

Full name.

I shake my head. “I don’t know the rest.”

She nods like she expected that. “That’s okay. Maybe we can try something else. Places, faces, objects—anything that stands out?”

I close my eyes, trying to focus, trying to pull something from the void.

At first, there’s nothing but darkness.

Then—

A flash.

A symbol. A glowing mark—etched into stone. It pulses, shifting, twisting.

And then—

A voice.

“Artemis… run.”

My eyes snap open. My breath is shaky.

Emily notices immediately. “Did something come to you?”

I stare at her, pulse hammering, the memory—if it was a memory—already slipping away.

“I…” My voice is hoarse. “I don’t know.”

But something is wrong.

I know it now.

Even if I don’t remember who I am, even if my past is still missing—

Something is waiting for me to remember.

“I think I remembered something,” I say, my voice unsteady. “Just for a second.”

Emily leans in slightly, her expression encouraging but cautious. “That’s good, Artemis. Do you know what it was?”

I shake my head slowly, frustration bubbling in my chest. “No. It was just… a flash. A feeling. And then it was gone.”

Like trying to hold onto a dream after waking up. The more I try to focus on it, the more it slips away.

Emily nods, scribbling something on her notepad. “That’s completely normal with memory loss. Sometimes things surface for a moment, but if your brain isn’t ready, they fade again. It doesn’t mean they’re gone forever.”

I exhale sharply, rubbing my temples. “Then why does it feel like they are?”

She gives me a small, understanding smile. “Because right now, you’re in the dark. But even the smallest light means you’re getting closer.”

I let her words sink in, but the frustration lingers. That flash—it felt important. But I can’t grab onto it.

Emily closes her notepad. “Do you want to try another exercise, or do you need a break?”

I hesitate. I should keep going. I need to remember.

But the more I push, the more my head aches—and the more I feel like I’m missing something I shouldn’t be missing.

“…A break,” I admit quietly.

“All right,” she says with a nod. “I’ll be back to check on you soon.”

She stands, offering a reassuring pat on my arm before stepping out.

As soon as the door closes, I let out a breath and stare at my hands.

Artemis.

That’s all I have.

But it’s not enough.

A few days pass.

I wake up in the same sterile hospital room, eat the same bland meals, answer the same questions from doctors and nurses.

But nothing changes.

I don’t remember anything.

No past. No family. No home. Just the name Artemis—the only piece of myself I have.

They scheduled a psychiatrist visit for me. They said it could help. Maybe therapy will unlock something. Maybe my memories are just buried somewhere deep, waiting to be pulled back up.

But what if they aren’t?

What if there’s nothing left to find?

A few days later, they decide it’s time for me to leave.

“You’ll need to find temporary residency,” one of the hospital administrators tells me. “We can refer you to a shelter or transitional housing while you meet with the psychiatrist.”

I nod numbly. Where else would I go?

But then the real problem hits me.

“I… don’t have any money,” I say, the words feeling heavier than they should.

No ID. No credit cards. No bank account. Nothing.

The administrator gives me a sympathetic look. “That’s why we’ll set you up with a caseworker. They can help you apply for an ID, check missing persons reports, and get temporary financial assistance.”

I swallow hard, nodding again. It all makes sense. It’s logical.

But it doesn’t make me feel any less lost.

The hospital wasn’t home, but it felt safe. Out there?

I have no idea where I belong.

They give me a set of donated clothes—simple jeans and a hoodie—and a list of addresses for shelters and resources. A caseworker is supposed to contact me soon, help me figure out what to do next.

The nurse who handled most of my care, Emily, walks me to the front of the hospital. “You’ll be okay,” she says gently. “It’ll take time, but you’ll figure things out.”

I nod, but I don’t feel okay.

Stepping outside feels… wrong. The air is crisp, the sky overcast. People pass by without a second glance, cars move along the street, the city hums with life. It should feel normal.

But to me, it feels off.

Like I’ve been dropped into a world I don’t belong in.

Emily gives me a small wave before heading back inside, leaving me alone on the hospital steps.

I take a slow breath, gripping the paper in my hands. Shelters, food banks, caseworker numbers. Resources for people like me. People who have nothing.

A gust of wind rustles my hoodie, and I shiver.

I have no home. No past. No one looking for me.

Just a name.

And I don’t even know if it’s really mine.

Tomorrow is when I’m meant to see the psychiatrist. Maybe they’ll help, maybe they won’t. Either way, it’s something.

For now, I need a place to stay.

I glance down at the paper in my hands, skimming the list of shelters. The hospital said they’d call ahead to let one of them know I might be coming, but there’s no guarantee they’ll have space.

I sigh, stuffing the paper into my hoodie pocket. I should also contact the caseworker, get started on whatever process they have for people like me. People with nothing.

Standing here won’t change anything.

I step forward, heading down the sidewalk, unsure where I’m going—just following the directions on the paper.

I don’t belong anywhere.

But I have to start somewhere.

It takes a while. The city is big, and even with the directions, I can’t help but feel lost.

Everything feels unfamiliar—the towering buildings, the endless streets, the steady hum of cars and voices. I don’t know if I’ve ever been here before. Maybe I have. Maybe this place should feel like home. But it doesn’t.

I stop a few times, double-checking the street signs, rereading the instructions on the paper. It shouldn’t be this hard, but my sense of direction feels just as empty as my memories.

Eventually, I reach the shelter.

It’s an old brick building, worn but sturdy. A sign near the entrance lists rules and curfew times. A few people linger outside, some chatting quietly, others just sitting alone.

I hesitate before stepping in.

Inside, the air is warm, carrying the faint scent of coffee and something being cooked in the back. A woman at the front desk looks up as I approach.

“Looking for a bed?” she asks, her tone kind but tired, like she’s had this conversation a hundred times today.

I nod. “Yeah. The hospital said they might call ahead for me.”

She checks a clipboard, scanning the list. “Name?”

I open my mouth, then pause. It still feels strange to say it.

“Artemis,” I answer finally.

She nods, making a note. “You’re in luck. We have space for the night.”

I exhale, not realizing how much tension I was holding in.

It’s not much.

But at least, for now, I have somewhere to go.

After checking in, they give me a cot number and point me toward the common area. It’s a simple space—rows of beds in a large room, a few chairs scattered near the walls, and a handful of people keeping to themselves. Some are talking quietly, others just staring at nothing.

I sit on the edge of the cot, the thin mattress creaking under my weight. The hospital told me to call the caseworker as soon as I could, so I should probably do that now.

Near the front desk, there’s a communal phone—old, slightly worn, but functional. I pull the paper from my pocket and dial the number listed under caseworker contact.

It rings twice before someone picks up.

“Office of Social Services, this is Marissa, how can I help you?”

I hesitate for a second before speaking. “Um… the hospital gave me this number. They said a caseworker would help me figure out… everything.”

There’s a pause. A slight shuffle, the sound of typing. “Alright. Do you have a name?”

I grip the receiver a little tighter. “Artemis.”

She hums like she’s writing it down. “And you’re currently at…?”

I glance at the shelter’s sign near the door and read the name to her.

“Got it,” she says. “We’ll need to get you an appointment set up. Right now, our earliest opening is in three days. Does that work?”

I don’t exactly have a packed schedule. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Good. In the meantime, I’d suggest checking missing persons reports if you haven’t already. You might also want to think about any skills you have, anything that feels natural—you’ll need a job at some point.”

Skills. I have no idea what I can do.

But I nod anyway. “Okay.”

“Alright, Artemis. I’ll see you in three days. Stay safe.”

The line clicks dead.

I set the phone back down, exhaling slowly.

Three days.

Until then, I just have to keep going.

I wanted to complain, to ask if there was any way to be seen sooner, but what choice do I have? They probably have dozens of people in the exact same situation as me—lost, with no ID, no history, no past.

I sigh, gripping the edge of the counter before turning away from the phone.

Missing persons report.

That’s what she suggested. Maybe I should check.

Would I even be listed?

I hesitate. If I am in the system, would seeing my real name trigger something? Would it make this all feel real? Or would it just be a name that means nothing to me?

Still, it’s a lead. And right now, I don’t have many of those.

I step back toward the front desk. The woman there looks up, raising an eyebrow. “Need something?”

“Yeah…” I shift awkwardly. “Do you have a computer I could use? I want to check missing persons reports.”

She nods, gesturing toward an old desktop in the corner of the room. “It’s slow, but it works.”

“Thanks.”

I walk over, sit down, and pull up the search page.

There’s a box for entering details—age, gender, location, anything that might help narrow it down.

I hesitate at the name field.

Then, slowly, I type Artemis and hit search.

A few results pop up, but as I scroll through the images, none of them look anything like me.

A teenage girl with dark hair. A middle-aged woman with glasses. A man in his twenties with a tired expression.

I try adjusting the search, changing the filters, but nothing changes.

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

I lean back in the chair, rubbing my temple.

I hesitate, then delete my search and try again.

This time, I leave the name field blank and just search for recently reported missing persons in the last few months.

The list is longer. Much longer.

I start scrolling.

There are so many people. Too many.

Even with the search narrowed to just female cases, there are hundreds of thousands of results. Names, faces, ages—all blending together into an overwhelming sea of lost people.

I take a slow breath and adjust the filters again, setting the location to the city I’m in.

The list shrinks.

Not by much.

But now it’s at least manageable.

I start scrolling, checking each image carefully, searching for something—a face that sparks recognition, a name that feels right, anything.

But nothing stands out.

No names. No places.

Eventually, I give up—at least for now.

The endless scrolling, the countless names and faces… it’s exhausting. It feels pointless.

If I was on that list, wouldn’t I have seen myself by now? Wouldn’t something have clicked?

I sigh, rubbing my eyes. It’s getting late. The shelter has curfew soon, and I should at least try to rest.

Pushing back from the desk, I stand and make my way toward my assigned cot. The room is dim now, most of the other people settling in for the night.

I sit on the thin mattress, staring at the ceiling.

I don’t know who I am.

I don’t know where I belong.

But tomorrow, I’ll keep looking.

For now, I close my eyes and hope for dreams that actually mean something.

Sleep doesn’t come easily.

The cot is thin, the fabric rough against my skin, and the quiet murmurs of the shelter seem to stretch on forever. People shifting, coughing, murmuring in their sleep. A door creaks somewhere in the distance.

I roll onto my side, pulling the blanket up, but it doesn’t help.

Because even with my eyes closed, my mind won’t stop racing.

Who am I?

I keep going over everything—the name Artemis, the feeling that something is missing beyond my memory, the flashes of something. A symbol. A voice.

“Artemis… run.”

The words echo in my head, making my chest tighten. Who said that? Why?

I press my hand against my forehead, frustrated. The hospital said I could’ve forgotten things due to stress or trauma, but what kind of trauma makes you forget your entire life?

A deep breath. I try to let the thoughts go, to focus on the steady rhythm of my breathing instead.

Eventually, exhaustion takes over, and I drift into sleep.

And then—

I dream.

At first, it’s just colors. Deep purples and shifting golds, swirling together like mist. Then shapes begin to form. Stone. A massive doorway. Symbols carved into the surface, glowing faintly in the dark.

I step closer.

Somewhere, in the distance, I hear whispers.

Then—

A figure.

I can’t see their face, only a silhouette standing in front of the doorway, staring at me.

I should be scared, but I’m not.

Instead, I feel something I don’t expect.

Recognition.

Like I know them. Like I should remember their name.

I take another step forward, reaching out—

Then my vision fractures.

The whispers turn to screams, the ground beneath me shifts, and suddenly I feel like I’m falling—

I jerk awake, gasping for breath.

The shelter is still dark, the sounds of quiet breathing around me unchanged.

But my heart is racing.

That wasn’t just a dream.

It felt real.

But it couldn’t be real.

The place in my dream—the massive stone doorway, the glowing symbols, the shifting colors—it was too odd to be real. Too impossible.

But maybe… maybe it means something.

I press a hand against my chest, trying to slow my racing heartbeat.

The hospital said trauma can cause things like this. Vivid dreams, hallucinations, fragmented memories.

“Artemis… run.”

The words send a shiver down my spine.

Maybe I was kidnapped. Maybe I escaped. Maybe the dream was some warped version of what happened—a distorted memory, twisted by fear and confusion.

Maybe that place was where I was held. Or where I was supposed to be taken.

I swallow hard, lying back down, staring at the ceiling.

If that’s true…

Then someone must be looking for me.

Right?

I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe slowly, evenly.

The thoughts swirl in my head—questions with no answers, fears I can’t prove—but exhaustion pulls at me.

Eventually, I drift off again.

This time, there are no strange doorways. No whispers. No shifting colors.

Just darkness.

When I wake, the shelter is already alive with quiet movement. Some people are gathering their things, others are eating a small breakfast in the common area.

I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes before glancing at the clock on the wall.

9:48 AM.

A little over an hour until my appointment.

I exhale slowly.

I have no idea how I’m supposed to get there.

I should ask someone if they can help.

Swallowing my hesitation, I stand and make my way toward the front desk. The same woman from yesterday is there, flipping through some paperwork.

“Hey,” I say, shifting awkwardly. “I have an appointment soon, but I don’t really… know my way around. Do you know how I can get there?”

She looks up, studying me for a moment before nodding. “Let me see the address.”

I pull out the paper with my appointment details, and she scans it quickly. “You’ll need to take the bus. Route 12 runs a few blocks from here, and there’s a stop right outside the clinic.”

Bus. That makes sense.

“Do you have a pass?” she asks.

I shake my head.

She sighs but reaches into a drawer, pulling out a small card. “We keep a few one-day passes for situations like this. This’ll cover your ride there and back.”

I take it, relief washing over me. “Thank you.”

“Just make sure to be at the stop down the street in the next ten minutes,” she says. “It’s not a long ride, but you don’t want to be late.”

I nod, gripping the bus pass tightly.

Now I just have to get there.

I make my way to the bus stop, the cold morning air settling against my skin. The streets are busy, cars passing by, people moving with purpose—like they all belong here.

Unlike me.

I grip the bus pass tightly, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

Then—

Something catches my eye.

A reflection in the glass of the building to my left.

A castle.

Stone walls, towering spires, something old and imposing—but when I turn to look at it directly, it’s gone.

Just the normal city skyline.

I stop mid-step, my pulse quickening.

Did I imagine that? Was it just some weird trick of the light?

I glance back at the reflection, but now it’s nothing but glass.

I swallow hard and force myself to keep walking.

It was nothing.

Just my mind playing tricks on me.

Right?

They said I hadn’t been hit in the head. No concussion, no brain injury, nothing like that.

And now I’m seeing things.

Awesome.

I let out a slow sigh, pushing the thought away. It was just a trick of the light. A weird reflection. It had to be.

I keep walking, focusing on the sidewalk ahead.

A few minutes later, I reach the bus stop. A small bench, a metal sign with the route number, and a few other people waiting nearby.

I sit down, gripping the bus pass in my hands.

Just get to the appointment.

One step at a time.

I get on the bus, finding an empty seat near the back. The ride is quiet, just the hum of the engine and the occasional chatter of other passengers. I try not to think about the reflection I saw earlier, but the image lingers in my mind.

A castle.

It didn’t feel like a normal hallucination—if hallucinations even had a normal. It felt… familiar.

I shake my head, pushing the thought away.

After a while, the bus reaches my stop. I step off, checking the paper with the appointment details one last time before heading toward the building.

It’s a simple office—glass doors, neutral-colored walls, nothing out of the ordinary.

I take a breath, step inside, and spot the receptionist sitting behind a desk.

She glances up as I approach. “Can I help you?”

I nod, adjusting my hoodie. “Yeah, I have an appointment.” I hesitate. “Uh… Artemis.”

She scans the schedule, then nods. “Got it. Have a seat, and the doctor will call you in shortly.”

I mutter a quick “thanks” before heading to the waiting area.

Now I just have to wait.

Maybe a psychiatrist can help somehow.

I hope.

I exhale slowly, trying to push away the frustration, the anxiety curling in my chest. I need to stay calm. Focus.

I glance up at the TV mounted in the waiting area, letting the sound of the broadcast pull me from my thoughts.

Some news story is playing—something about a game company under investigation for kidnappings. The words “missing persons” flash across the screen.

My fingers tighten slightly against my hoodie sleeve.

It’s probably nothing. Just another crime story, another corporate scandal. But something about it makes my stomach turn.

Then—

“Artemis?”

My head snaps toward the receptionist, my pulse skipping.

But she’s just looking at her computer, calling another patient’s name.

Not me.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to relax.

Just my mind playing tricks again.

I exhale slowly, forcing myself to stop overthinking.

Then—

“Artemis?”

I look up.

A woman stands at the doorway to the office, holding a clipboard. She gives me a small, professional smile.

“Right this way.”

I hesitate for just a second before standing. My legs feel unsteady, but I push forward, following her down the hall.

This is it.

“Okay, Artemis,” the psychiatrist says as she takes a seat across from me. “Let’s start with what you do remember.”

I shift slightly in the chair, my fingers gripping the fabric of my hoodie.

I want to give her something. Anything. But the truth is, there’s not much to say.

“I woke up in an alley,” I say finally. “No ID. No phone. Nothing.”

She nods, jotting something down on her notepad. “And before that?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“No flashes? No images? Even vague feelings?”

I hesitate. “Just… my name. Artemis.”

She tilts her head slightly. “And you’re sure that’s your name?”

I swallow. “It’s the only thing that feels right.”

She studies me for a moment before writing something else down. “Anything else? Dreams, instincts, gut reactions to certain things?”

Dreams.

I think about the stone doorway, the whispers, the voice telling me to run.

And then the castle reflection in the glass.

I hesitate.

“…Maybe.”

“I don’t think it was anything,” I say, shifting in my seat. “Just… some weird place. But definitely not a real place.”

The psychiatrist watches me carefully. “Weird how?”

I hesitate, choosing my words carefully. “Like… a stone doorway? Symbols? It didn’t feel like a memory, just… something my brain made up.”

She nods, jotting something down. “And you’ve had this dream more than once?”

I swallow. “Not exactly. But I keep hearing someone telling me to run.”

Her pen pauses for half a second before she continues writing. “A specific voice? Or just the words?”

I try to remember, but it’s frustratingly vague. “I don’t know. I think it’s a man’s voice, but it’s… distant. Like I should recognize it, but I don’t.”

She studies me again before setting her pen down. “Dreams and repeated phrases like that can sometimes be tied to trauma. Your brain might be trying to process something you can’t consciously access yet.”

I nod slowly, but deep down, something about it doesn’t feel like trauma.

It feels like a warning.

“Am I in danger?” The thought creeps in before I can stop it.

But no—one thing at a time.

I take a slow breath, forcing myself to stay grounded. No use spiraling over something I can’t even begin to understand.

The psychiatrist watches me carefully. “You seem tense. What are you thinking?”

I shake my head quickly. “Nothing. Just… trying to make sense of it all.”

She nods, as if she expected that. “That’s completely normal. Your mind is trying to put the pieces together, even if you don’t have all of them yet.”

I swallow. That’s the problem, isn’t it? I don’t have the pieces. Just fragments. Shadows.

And that voice—run.

But from what?

“And you don’t remember anything else at all?” the psychiatrist asks, her voice steady.

I shake my head. “No.”

She exhales softly, flipping her pen between her fingers. “Come on, Artemis. I need more than that.”

I freeze.

That wasn’t her voice.

It’s different—sharper, more familiar, edged with frustration but not unkind.

I look up—

And the woman across from me is gone.

In her place sits a younger girl with red hair, eyes focused on me like she expects an answer.

I blink—

And she’s gone.

The psychiatrist is back, watching me with a calm, clinical expression, like nothing just happened.

My breath catches in my throat. My hands tighten against my lap.

What the hell was that?

I sit completely still, my heart pounding.

That wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been real.

But I saw her.

A girl with red hair, staring at me like she knew me. Like she expected me to say something.

“Artemis?”

I blink again, and the psychiatrist is just… there, like nothing happened. Her voice is calm, patient. Like she hasn’t just disappeared for a moment.

I swallow hard, my fingers curling against the fabric of my hoodie.

“I…” My voice feels unsteady. “I don’t know.”

She studies me for a long moment, then leans forward slightly. “Are you feeling alright? You just… spaced out for a second.”

Spaced out.

Is that all it was? A trick of my mind?

Or was it something I almost remembered?

I nod stiffly, forcing my voice to stay level. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t press either.

“That’s understandable,” she says, jotting something down. “Memory loss can be exhausting, even when you’re not consciously trying to recall things. Your mind is constantly searching for missing pieces.”

I nod again, but my head is spinning.

That wasn’t just nothing.

I saw her.

I know I did.

But who was she?

The psychiatrist watches me carefully, but I can’t focus on her anymore. My mind is stuck on what I just saw.

A girl with red hair.

She looked younger than me—maybe late teens? Her expression was sharp, focused. Frustrated, but not angry.

And the way she spoke—Come on, Artemis. I need more than that.

Like she knew me. Like she expected me to remember.

But I don’t.

I can’t.

“Artemis?”

I snap back to the present, realizing the psychiatrist has been waiting for a response.

“Sorry,” I mumble. “Just… thinking.”

She nods, tapping her pen against the notepad. “Let’s try something else.”

I force myself to sit up straighter, pushing away the lingering unease.

“Do you ever feel like something is… trying to surface?” she asks. “Like your brain is holding something just out of reach?”

I hesitate.

“Yes.”

That voice telling me to run. The castle reflection in the glass. The dreams. The red-haired girl who wasn’t there.

Everything is right there, just beneath the surface—but the moment I try to reach for it, it slips away.

I take a slow breath. “Yeah. It’s like there’s… something, but I can’t grab onto it.”

She nods, writing something down. “That’s a good sign. It means your memories may not be gone—just blocked. Sometimes, that happens when the brain is trying to protect itself.”

“Protect me from what?” I ask before I can stop myself.

She gives me a small, careful smile. “That’s what we need to figure out.”

“The good news is,” she continues, “you should eventually be able to remember things.”

I tense at that word.

“Eventually?” I echo. “How long is eventually?”

She exhales softly, setting her notepad aside. “It’s different for everyone. Sometimes memories come back in days or weeks. Other times, it can take months, even years. And in some cases… they don’t return at all.”

My stomach twists.

“So there’s a chance I might never remember?”

She hesitates, then nods. “Yes. But that doesn’t mean you can’t rebuild. Even if your past doesn’t come back, you can move forward.”

I look down at my hands, gripping them into fists. That’s not what I want to hear.

I don’t want to rebuild. I want to know who I am.

I stare down at my hands, my nails pressing into my palms.

I don’t want to start over. I don’t want to accept this as my new life. I want to know who I was.

“But what if I don’t want to move forward?” I ask, my voice quieter than before. “What if I just want my memories back?”

The psychiatrist studies me for a moment, then leans forward slightly. “Then we’ll do everything we can to help you recover them,” she says, her tone steady. “But sometimes, forcing it can do more harm than good. Your mind may be protecting you from something it thinks you’re not ready for.”

That doesn’t sit right with me.

I don’t feel like I’m being protected. I feel like something is being kept from me.

I swallow hard. “So what do I do now?”

“For now,” she says, “keep paying attention to any flashes of memory, dreams, or feelings that seem important. Keep a journal if you can—it might help track patterns. And when we meet again, we’ll go deeper.”

I nod, but frustration lingers in my chest.

I don’t want to wait.

I don’t want to rely on vague feelings and dreams that disappear the moment I wake up.

I want answers.

But for now, I just exhale, forcing myself to stay calm.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll try.”

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” I ask, frustration creeping into my voice. “I don’t have money. I don’t have anywhere to stay.”

The psychiatrist nods, like she expected that. “Have you met with a caseworker yet?”

I shake my head. “No. Not for another two days.”

She taps her pen against the notepad, thinking. “For now, I’d suggest trying to find a local job—something small to start. It might help with stability, and if you find yourself able to do something easily, that could be a clue about what you were doing before.”

I hesitate. A job? I don’t even know if I have any skills.

“What if I can’t do anything?” I mutter.

She gives me a reassuring look. “You won’t know until you try.”

I exhale slowly. She’s right. I can’t just sit around waiting for my memories to come back.

I have to do something.

“Okay, uh… thanks, Ms…” I trail off, realizing I don’t actually remember her name.

She gives a small smile. “Dr. Monroe.”

“Right.” I nod, standing up a little awkwardly. “Thanks, Dr. Monroe.”

She watches me for a moment, then nods back. “Take care, Artemis. And remember—this doesn’t have to be something you go through alone. There are people who want to help.”

I swallow hard, nodding again before turning toward the door.

I know she’s trying to reassure me. But the truth is, I do feel alone.

Because even if people want to help, no one else is living with this emptiness.

No past. No family. No real connections.

Just me. And the name Artemis.

As I turn to leave, Dr. Monroe reaches into a drawer and pulls out a small notebook and a pen.

“Here,” she says, holding them out to me. “Write down anything that stands out—dreams, thoughts, moments that feel important. Even if they don’t make sense now, they might later.”

I hesitate for a second before taking them. The notebook is plain, the cover a dull blue.

“Thanks,” I say, tucking it under my arm.

She nods. “Take care, Artemis.”

I step out of the building, the cool air hitting me as the door swings shut behind me.

The city feels bigger than before. Louder. Like it’s moving forward while I’m still stuck, trying to figure out where I’m supposed to be.

I glance down at the notebook, running my fingers over the cover.

Might as well try.

I click the pen open and write the first thing that comes to mind.

“I don’t know who I am. But I’m going to find out.”

End of chapter 1

Eidolon Nexus: Echoes of Memory Chapter 2 New Beginning?

Author: 

  • LightBringer

Caution: 

  • CAUTION: Violence

Audience Rating: 

  • Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication: 

  • Fiction
  • Novel > 40,000 words
  • Novel Chapter

Genre: 

  • Transgender
  • Crossdressing
  • Transformations
  • Magic
  • Fantasy Worlds
  • Science Fiction
  • Other Worlds
  • Adventure
  • Comedy
  • Horror
  • Mystery or Suspense
  • Romance

Character Age: 

  • College / Twenties

TG Themes: 

  • Amnesia
  • Identity Crisis
  • Romantic

TG Elements: 

  • Memory Loss
  • Mmorpg / Virtual Reality
  • Shopping
  • Slice of Life

Other Keywords: 

  • Eidolon Nexus

Permission: 

  • Posted by author(s)

A woman wakes in an alley with no name, no memories, and a haunting sense that something is terribly wrong. But one word stirs something deep Artemis. With only that name and flashes of strange things, she’s thrust into a world she doesn’t recognize. As she searches for clues to her identity and what happened to her it becomes clear her past isn’t just lost… it may be dangerous.
63552816-4D96-4882-A2B3-524242FA9F64.jpeg
This story is a follow up story to Eidolon Nexus: The Shattered Realm however it is not necessary to read the previous story if you don’t want to as with the main character having no memory it works if you have or haven’t read it. If you do wish to see the first story you can read it here https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/book-page/104648/eidolon-nexu...

Early access to new chapters, stories, and more plus votes and non canon XXX chapters here https://www.patreon.com/LightBringerStories?utm_campaign=cre...

Vote on a returning characters return for free via the link above! ^

Chapter 2

2 -2

A job.

Where do I even start?

I don’t have any experience or at least, none that I remember. No resume, no references, nothing that would tell an employer I can actually do anything.

I exhale, gripping the book in my hands. The shelter might have resources for job searches, but I don’t want to wait around.

I glance up and down the street. The city is busy, stores and cafés lining the sidewalks, people moving in and out of businesses.

Maybe I just… walk in and ask? See if anyone’s hiring?

It feels like a long shot, but what other choice do I have?

I take a deep breath and start walking.

I walk down the sidewalk, scanning the windows of shops and cafés, looking for anything—anything—that might give me a place to start.

Then I see it.

A small “Help Wanted” sign taped to the front window of a café.

I stop, staring at it for a moment. It’s nothing fancy—just a handwritten note, slightly curled at the edges, as if it’s been there for a while.

I hesitate.

I have no idea if I’ve ever worked in a café before. I don’t even know if I can do the job. But right now, I need something. A place to start.

I take a breath, step forward, and push open the door.

A small bell chimes as I step inside. The scent of coffee and freshly baked bread fills the air, warm and inviting.

At the counter, a young man—early twenties, maybe—leans against the register, scrolling through his phone. He glances up when he hears the door, straightening slightly.

“Hey, welcome,” he says, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Need a table, or…?”

I shift awkwardly, glancing at the Help Wanted sign in the window. “Uh, actually… I saw the sign. Are you still hiring?”

His eyebrows lift slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. “Oh. Yeah, I think so. Hang on.”

He turns, disappearing through a door behind the counter.

I exhale slowly, gripping the notebook in my hands.

Okay. First step.

A minute later, he comes back, wiping his hands on his apron.

“Alright,” he says, leaning against the counter again. “Boss is out right now, but we are still hiring. You got experience?”

I freeze for a second.

I could lie, but if they ask me to make something and I completely screw it up, that won’t get me anywhere.

I shake my head. “Not really. But I’m a fast learner.”

He tilts his head, studying me for a moment. Then he shrugs. “Honestly, we’re kinda desperate, so that might be enough.”

I blink. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. It’s mostly counter work, running orders, keeping things clean—nothing crazy. You think you can handle that?”

I nod quickly. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Cool. Fill out an application, and the boss’ll probably want to meet you tomorrow.” He reaches under the counter, grabs a form, and slides it toward me with a pen.

I stare at the paper. Name, address, phone number.

My grip tightens slightly on the pen.

Some of these… I don’t have answers for.

“Um… I uh…” I swallow, gripping the pen tighter. “I’m an amnesiac, and I don’t have a few of these.”

The guy raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that. “Wait, for real?”

I nod, bracing myself for the awkwardness that’s about to follow.

He looks at me for a second, then shrugs. “Huh. That’s a new one.”

I blink. “That’s it? No weird looks or questions?”

He smirks slightly. “I mean, I have questions, but I also know to not pry. If you can take orders and clean tables, that’s all that really matters.”

I exhale, some of the tension leaving my shoulders.

“Just fill in what you can,” he says, tapping the paper. “Boss might ask about it, but if they’re cool with it, you’re good.”

I nod, hesitating only for a moment before starting to write.

For name, I write Artemis.:

For address… I leave it blank.

I pause at previous work experience, my mind blank. I should have something to put here. But I don’t.

Slowly, I write: Willing to learn.

It’s not much.

But right now, it’s all I have.

“Okay, just come back in tomorrow morning. Boss should be here then,” he says, taking the paper back and giving it a quick glance before nodding.

“Thanks,” I say, relieved that this was easier than I expected.

He grabs a small piece of paper, scribbles something down, and hands it to me. “If you need anything, you can call me.”

I blink, taking the paper hesitantly. There’s a phone number written on it.

“Oh, uh… thanks?”

He smirks slightly, leaning back against the counter. “Yeah, you seem kinda lost—literally. Figured it wouldn’t hurt.”

I stare at the number for a second before tucking it into my pocket.

I don’t even have a phone.

But still… it’s weirdly nice.

“Well, thanks for the help—” I glance down at his name tag.

“Ethan.”

He catches me looking and smirks. “Yeah, that’s me.”

I nod. “Right. Well… thanks, Ethan.”

“No problem, Artemis,” he says, like my name isn’t weird or unusual at all. “See you tomorrow.”

I give him a small nod before turning toward the door.

As I step outside, the cool air hits me, and I let out a slow breath.

I might have a job. A small step, but a step forward.

Now I just have to make it through the rest of today.

I take out the notebook and click the pen open, leaning against the side of the building as I write.

Got a job? Maybe.

Some nice guy gave me his number.

I pause, tapping the pen against the page.

Was he just being nice, or was he interested in me?

As soon as I write it, my face heats up.

Oh my god, why am I even thinking about this?

He was kind of cute, though…

I quickly shake my head, shutting the notebook with a snap. More important things to worry about right now, Artemis.

Like surviving. Like figuring out who I am.

I shove the notebook back into my pocket and push off the wall, heading back toward the shelter.

Tomorrow, I’ll find out if I have a job.

The day after, I meet with the caseworker.

I hope they can find more than I did. Going through all those missing persons reports didn’t help, but maybe they have better resources—fingerprints, records, something.

I sigh, shoving my hands into my hoodie pockets as I walk.

It’s frustrating, not knowing if there’s even anything to find. What if I was never reported missing? What if there’s no record of me at all?

I shake my head. No, don’t think like that.

I just have to wait.

And I’m really, really sick of waiting.

No wallet. No phone.

You’d think I’d been robbed.

But if I had, I’d probably have been physically hurt, right? Some kind of struggle, bruises, anything.

Instead, the doctors said there was nothing wrong with me. No signs of trauma, no injuries—just me, showing up in an alley with no memory.

Who loses everything except their body?

I grip the notebook in my pocket a little tighter.

Something doesn’t add up.

When I get back to the shelter, I pull out the notebook and flip to a blank page.

I need to write this down—all of it.

I jot each thing down quickly, my handwriting a little messy but legible.
• The reflection – The castle I saw in the glass, but when I looked directly, it was gone.
• The voice – Someone telling me to run. I don’t know who, but it feels important.
• The dream – A stone doorway, glowing symbols, whispers in the dark.
•The red-haired girl – I saw her in place of the psychiatrist. She knew me. Then she vanished.

I stare at the list.

It’s not much. Random, disconnected things. But they keep happening.

If I keep writing them down, maybe I’ll start to see a pattern. Maybe it’ll start to make sense.

I tap the pen against the page.

Something inside me knows that I’m missing something big.

But what?

My stomach rumbles, pulling me out of my thoughts.

Right. Food.

I close the notebook and shove it back into my hoodie pocket before standing up. The shelter usually has something—nothing fancy, but enough to get by.

I make my way to the common area, where a few people are sitting at tables, eating. There’s a table near the back with some donated food—mostly sandwiches, fruit, and bottled water.

I grab a sandwich and a bottle, finding an empty seat near the wall.

As I take a bite, my mind drifts back to the list in my notebook.

Even if I can’t remember who I am…

Something is trying to make me remember.

That’s good, I think. My brain is trying, at least.

Even if it’s not working too well.

I take another bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly. It’s not great, but it’s food. And right now, that’s enough.

I glance around the room—people keeping to themselves, eating quietly, some staring off like they’re lost in their own worlds.

Maybe some of them feel like I do. Like they don’t belong anywhere.

I sigh, leaning back in my chair.

Tomorrow, I find out if I have a job.

The day after, I meet with the caseworker.

One step at a time.

I lay down on one of the cots, pulling the thin blanket over me. My body feels heavy, my mind still turning over everything from today, but exhaustion is stronger.

I close my eyes, hoping—begging—for a dream that might actually help me remember.

Then—

Suddenly, I’m in an alley.

The alley.

The one I woke up in.

But this isn’t like the other dreams—where I was just watching, seeing flashes of things that slipped away the moment I reached for them.

I can move.

I take a slow, cautious step forward. The pavement is wet beneath my feet, the air thick with the smell of rain and something faintly metallic.

I look around, my pulse quickening.

Is this a dream?

Or am I remembering?

I lift my hand slowly, testing if I can really move—if this is just another dream or something more.

I press my palm against the rough brick wall beside me, grounding myself. This feels real.

I take a slow breath and start examining the alley.

If this is a memory—if my mind is finally giving me something—then maybe there’s something I missed when I first woke up here.

I scan the ground, the walls, the dumpsters, looking for anything that stands out.

A clue. A sign. Something that tells me why I was here.

I freeze.

Whispers.

Soft, indistinct, curling around me like smoke.

I turn sharply.

A shadow stretches across the ground, creeping toward me like it has a mind of its own.

My pulse spikes.

“What the hell—”

I stumble backward, my breath coming faster as the shadow keeps moving, slow but deliberate.

It’s not natural—there’s no person, no light source casting it. Just darkness, slithering across the pavement like it’s reaching for me.

The whispers grow louder.

This isn’t just a dream.

I have to move now.

I bolt out of the alley, my heart hammering in my chest.

The whispers chase me, but I don’t stop—I don’t look back.

I reach the street, stumbling into the glow of a nearby lamp, its light casting a sharp contrast against the dark.

Panting, I turn, eyes wide, scanning the alley behind me.

Nothing.

No shadow. No whispers. Just wet pavement and empty space.

But I know what I saw.

I know what I felt.

Something was there—and it was coming for me.

Why doesn’t this feel like a dream?

This isn’t normal.

Is this just a lucid dream turned nightmare?

But somehow… it doesn’t feel like it is.

Then—

A screech splits the air, sharp and unnatural.

I look up, my stomach twisting.

A large, beaked creature is diving toward me, its wings a twisting mix of black and green, shifting like liquid shadow. Its glowing eyes lock onto me, its talons outstretched.

I throw myself to the ground, heart pounding, just as it reaches me—

I wake up.

My breath catches. My body jerks slightly.

Sunlight spills through the shelter windows. People are moving around, talking quietly, getting ready for the day.

I blink rapidly, trying to steady myself.

It’s already morning.

But my hands are shaking. My body remembers the fear. The running. The thing in the sky.

I press a hand against my chest, trying to calm down.

That wasn’t just a dream.

I know it wasn’t.

What the hell does it mean?

It felt so real—the alley, the whispers, the moving shadow, that thing diving at me—

But there’s no way it could be real.

Shadows don’t move like that. Creatures like that don’t exist.

Right?

I sit up quickly, grabbing my notebook and flipping to a blank page. My hands are still a little unsteady, but I force myself to write everything down before it slips away.
• The alley again. I could move. It felt real.
• A shadow creeping toward me. No source, no person. Just… moving on its own.
• Whispers. Couldn’t make out words.
• A monster? A bird? Black and green wings. A beak. It dived at me.
• I woke up right before it reached me.

I stare at the words, my pen hovering over the page.

I don’t know what any of this means.

But if this isn’t just a dream—if my mind is trying to tell me something—

Then what the hell happened to me before I lost my memory?

Let’s think this through logically.

Maybe I saw a bird at some point, and my brain just warped it into that… thing. A mix of reality and imagination.

And the shadow—maybe it was just a trick of the light? Or maybe I saw someone’s shadow before something happened, and my mind twisted it into something worse.

I sigh, rubbing my temple.

I have no clue.

And right now, I don’t have time to figure it out.

Oh, no—what time is it?

I glance around the shelter, my heart jumping as I spot the clock on the wall.

10:17 AM.

Shit.

I scramble up from the cot. I don’t even have the job yet, and I’m already about to be late.

I run the whole way, my heart pounding—not just from panic, but from the lingering unease of the dream.

By the time I reach the café, I barely make it through the door as the clock hits 10:36.

Ethan is behind the counter, wiping down the espresso machine. He glances up as I stumble in, slightly out of breath.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I say quickly, bracing myself for an annoyed response.

But Ethan just shrugs. “Eh, you’re not that late. Boss isn’t even here yet.”

I blink, still catching my breath. “Oh. Okay.”

He smirks. “You sprinted here, didn’t you?”

I straighten, trying to act like I totally didn’t just run across half the city. “…No.”

He laughs. “Relax. You’re fine. Just, y’know, maybe aim for ‘on time’ if you actually get hired.”

I exhale, finally letting some of the tension drain from my body. “Yeah. Got it.”

“Here, you should eat something,” Ethan says, grabbing a coffee cup and a bagel from behind the counter.

I hesitate. “I don’t have any money.”

He just rolls his eyes and slides them toward me. “It’s on the house.”

I stare at the food for a moment before slowly reaching for it. “Are you sure? I don’t want to—”

“Just take it, Artemis,” he says with a smirk. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

I don’t argue. My stomach growls the second I take a bite of the bagel, and I realize I probably do look half-dead.

I sip the coffee carefully, the warmth settling in my chest.

I wasn’t expecting kindness today. But I’ll take it.

I glance around the café, noting the complete lack of customers.

“…I thought you said you desperately needed help?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Ethan coughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, uh… today’s just a low day.”

I narrow my eyes. “Right. And how often do these low days happen?”

He shrugs. “Often enough.”

I take another bite of the bagel, eyeing him suspiciously. “So you guys aren’t actually that busy, are you?”

Ethan sighs dramatically. “Look, we do need help, okay? Just… more during lunch and weekends.”

I smirk slightly. “So, what, am I getting hired just to hang out with you on slow days?”

He grins. “Maybe. You did seem kinda lost. Figured you could use something to do.”

I pause at that, suddenly unsure what to say.

Because… he’s not wrong.

“Besides,” Ethan says with a grin, “I’ve been told I’m great company.”

I scoff, smirking. “Uh-huh. By who? Your mom?”

He puts a hand over his chest, gasping dramatically. “Ouch. Wounded. Deeply.”

I take another sip of coffee, unimpressed. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“I’ll have you know,” he continues, pointing at me, “I am very well liked by everyone.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Everyone?”

“Everyone.”

“Even your boss?”

Ethan hesitates for half a second before clearing his throat. “…Mostly everyone.”

“How late does he usually show up? It’s almost eleven,” I ask, glancing at the clock.

“Noon, usually,” Ethan says casually, leaning against the counter.

I narrow my eyes. “You told me to come in the morning.”

He grins. “Good thing I did, considering how late you were.”

I roll my eyes. “They don’t exactly have wake-up calls at the homeless shelter.”

That wipes the smirk off his face. Just for a second.

I regret saying it immediately—not because it isn’t true, but because I hate the sudden shift in the air.

I go back to my bagel, acting like I don’t notice. Ethan doesn’t say anything right away, but after a moment, he shrugs.

“Fair enough,” he says lightly, but I catch the way his fingers drum against the counter, like he wants to say more but doesn’t.

I take another sip of coffee. “So,” I say, changing the subject, “since we have an hour to kill, are you actually gonna teach me anything, or are we just standing here?”

His smirk returns instantly. “Oh, you wanna work now?”

I roll my eyes again. “Just show me what buttons not to press before I break something.”

“Already trying to get on the boss’s good side?” Ethan teases. “You’re gonna make me look bad.”

“Are you that bad of an employee?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“…No,” he says, a little too quickly. “I’m just preoccupied with customer service.”

I fold my arms. “Care to elaborate?”

He grins, leaning against the counter. “I may be easily distracted by the ladies.” He chuckles. “They say I have a flirting problem.”

I scoff. “Uh-huh. Then how come you haven’t flirted with me?”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them.

Because Ethan smiles—slow, amused, far too confident.

“Do you want me to flirt with you?” he asks smoothly.

I freeze.

Oh no.

I freeze, my brain immediately short-circuiting.

Oh no.

“No, I—uh—um—” My face burns, and suddenly, the café feels way too small. “I gotta use the restroom!”

I turn and bolt, practically tripping over myself as I rush toward the back.

Behind me, I hear Ethan chuckle. “Smooth, Artemis. Real smooth.”

I slam the restroom door shut behind me and press my hands against my face.

What the hell was that?!

Well, that was embarrassing.

I completely froze.

I sigh, turning on the faucet and splashing cold water on my face. The shock helps a little, but it doesn’t erase the fact that I just panicked over a dumb joke.

After a minute, I take a deep breath, straighten my hoodie, and step back out.

I’m trying to forget what happened.

That doesn’t happen.

Ethan is already grinning when I walk back to the counter. “You good?”

“Fine,” I say quickly. Changing the subject. Moving on. We are never speaking of this again.

But of course, he isn’t done.

“Jokes aside,” he says, crossing his arms. “I won’t lie—I was planning on flirting with you.”

I blink. “What?”

He shrugs. “But once I found out about, y’know, your whole situation, I felt kinda rude doing that.”

I stare at him, caught between mild horror and… something else. “You had a plan?”

He smirks. “I always have a plan.”

“So, I’m guessing the number wasn’t out of the kindness of your heart,” I say, crossing my arms.

Ethan grins. “It was. It is.” He tilts his head slightly. “I just wouldn’t mind if it led to something.”

I scoff. “Smooth. Subtle.”

He chuckles. “I try.”

I shake my head, fighting the small smile threatening to form. “Anyway—are you gonna actually teach me anything, or are we just gonna stand here while you flirt with me?”

Ethan smirks. “Why not both?”

I groan. “Ethan.”

“Fine, fine,” he laughs, finally pushing off the counter. “Alright, newbie, let’s see if you can at least make a decent cup of coffee without setting anything on fire.”

“I don’t think that’s even possible,” I say, eyeing the espresso machine like it might explode if I touch it.

“It is,” Ethan says confidently, grabbing a cup and placing it in front of me. “And lucky for you, I’m an excellent teacher.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Debatable.”

He smirks. “You did just admit I was smooth and subtle.”

I groan. “Are you gonna hold that over my head forever?”

“Absolutely.”

I shake my head, but I can’t help the small laugh that slips out.

“Alright, fine. Teach me, oh wise coffee master.”

Ethan grins. “Now that’s the respect I deserve.”

After a bit and a few successes and fails I think I’m finally getting the hang of it.

It’s still confusing how many different types of drinks there are, not to mention all the modifications people can request. But at least I haven’t broken anything. Yet.

Then, the door chimes, and a man walks in.

I straighten, trying to look at least somewhat competent. “What would you like?” I ask.

The man raises an eyebrow, then looks past me at Ethan. “Who’s this? Your girlfriend?”

I immediately blush, my face heating up as I instinctively try to hide it behind my sleeve.

Ethan just laughs, completely unfazed. “Nope. This is your new employee.”

The man crosses his arms, eyeing me up and down with mild amusement.

Oh.

It’s the boss.

“Uh… hi,” I say quickly, trying to recover. “I’m Artemis.”

The boss studies me for a moment, then nods. “Artemis, huh? Ethan, you didn’t mention you were hiring someone new.”

Ethan shrugs. “Figured I’d surprise you.”

The boss sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course you did.” Then he looks back at me. “You ever worked in a café before?”

I hesitate. “Uh… no. But I’m learning.”

He raises an eyebrow at Ethan. “And? How’s she doing?”

Ethan grins. “Hasn’t burned the place down yet.”

The boss gives him a flat look before turning back to me. “Well, that’s a start.” He pauses, then nods. “Alright. Trial period. You screw up too much, you’re out. Fair?”

I nod quickly. “Fair.”

He gestures toward the counter. “Then get back to work.”

I exhale, relieved but nervous.

I really need to make this work.

“You mean I’ve been nervous all day when you’re the one in charge of whether I have a job?” I stare at him, half in disbelief.

Ethan grins. “Yeah.”

I open my mouth, then close it.

“…I hate you a little bit right now.”

He chuckles. “Understandable.”

I shake my head, still trying to process. Before I can say anything else, Ethan’s expression shifts—just slightly, losing that usual teasing edge.

“Look,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t want you to just pretend to like me ‘cause I’m your boss.”

I blink. “My boss?” I frown. “You mean you’re not just in charge of hiring?”

He shrugs. “No… I’m kinda in charge of everything.”

I stare at him.

“You own this place?”

“Technically, yeah.”

I groan, leaning against the counter. “Oh my god.”

“Or at least, I will,” Ethan says with a shrug. “I’m just part-owner for now until my dad fully ‘retires.’”

I narrow my eyes. “Fully?”

He smirks. “Yeah, he says he’s stepping back, but honestly? He really only comes here to relax—probably just to get away from my mom for a bit.”

I let out a breath, shaking my head. “So let me get this straight you basically own this place, you’ve been running things, you decided to hire me, and I’ve been stressing all morning for nothing?”

“Pretty much,” he says, completely unapologetic.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Unbelievable.”

“Hey,” he says, grinning, “on the bright side, that means your job’s already secure. Unless you burn the place down. Then we might have to talk.”

I glare at him. “One accident, and you’ll never let it go, huh?”

“Not a chance.”

“So why the whole charade?” I cross my arms, raising an eyebrow. “Just to mess with the girl who’s got no memory and is homeless?”

Ethan’s smirk immediately disappears.

“No—no, I—” He rubs the back of his neck, looking genuinely guilty. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t say anything, waiting.

He sighs. “I meant what I said about wanting to see if you liked me before you knew I was the boss. And then when I found out about, y’know… all of that—” He gestures vaguely. “—I didn’t really have a way of backing out without making things super weird.”

I narrow my eyes. “Oh, so this isn’t weird?”

Ethan groans, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, yes, it’s a little weird, but I didn’t do it to mess with you. I swear.”

I watch him for a second, trying to decide if I believe him.

…Yeah. I think I do.

I sigh, shaking my head. “You’re lucky I really need this job.”

His grin slowly returns. “Oh, I know.”

“How about, to make it up to you, I let you stay with me?” Ethan says casually, like he’s offering me a free drink instead of a place to live.

I turn toward him, astonished at his audacity.

“Are you joking?”

He grins. “Not like that.” Then, with a smirk, he adds, “Unless you want it to be.”

I gape at him, my face instantly heating up.

Before I can yell at him, he holds up his hands in surrender. “Kidding, kidding!”

I hesitate, my mind racing.

It’s too much. Too generous. Too sudden.

But… it’s also a real place to stay. Something better than a shelter.

I cross my arms, eyeing him suspiciously. “And what’s in it for you?”

Ethan shrugs. “A little less guilt, a little good karma. And maybe my dad stops yelling at me for not using my apartment properly.”

I stare at him.

This is insane.

But I can’t deny that I’m tempted.

But I have a feeling he’s definitely trying to get in my pants…

This is definitely just part of his moves.

I narrow my eyes. “How often do you invite girls to work here and live with you?”

Ethan chuckles, leaning against the counter. “Believe it or not, you’re the first.”

I scoff. “Oh, sure. That’s believable.”

He clears his throat. “Anyway, I’m serious. No weird conditions, no strings attached. Just figured… you need a place, and I have one. Simple as that.”

I squint, studying his face.

Is he actually being genuine, or is this just another smooth-talking Ethan move™?

I almost don’t feel like I have a choice.

It’s this or staying at the homeless shelter—and that’s assuming I’m even able to get in every night.

Shelters fill up. They turn people away. And even when I do get in, it’s not exactly safe or comfortable.

Ethan’s offer… it’s a lot. And I still don’t fully trust his intentions. But a real place to stay? A bed? A little bit of stability?

I exhale, running a hand through my hair. “You’re really not expecting anything?”

Ethan shakes his head. “Nope. Just trying to help.” Then he grins. “Besides, if I was trying to win you over, I wouldn’t be bribing you with a couch—I’d be going way bigger.”

I roll my eyes. “Right. Because that’s what’s stopping me.”

He smirks. “So… is that a yes?”

I hesitate.

But in the end, I already know my answer.

“Yeah,” I say finally. “I’ll take the couch.”

His face lights up a bit, and I already regret it.

“Awesome!” Ethan says, way too pleased with himself.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “How exactly does this place make money? There hasn’t been a single customer since I got here.”

Ethan leans on the counter, completely unfazed. “We do get customers. Just… not in the morning. Or mid-morning. Or early afternoon.”

I stare at him. “So basically, never?”

He smirks. “We’re a late-day café. People come in for lunch, and we kill it in the evening. Trust me, it picks up.”

I cross my arms, skeptical. “So I just happened to show up during the deadest part of the day?”

“Exactly,” he says, grinning.

I shake my head. “You’re so lucky I need this job.”

After another hour of absolutely nothing just me learning how to clean tables, restock supplies, and use the register people actually start showing up.

At first, it’s just a couple of stragglers. Then, like someone flipped a switch, the café fills up fast.

I barely have time to process it before Ethan claps his hands. “Alright, rookie, time to see if you actually learned anything.”

I exhale, adjusting my apron. “No pressure, huh?”

“None at all,” he says, grinning. “Just don’t screw up too badly.”

I roll my eyes and jump into work.

I’m definitely not skilled at this.

I almost drop a cup twice, and I still hesitate every time I punch something into the register, but I’m managing.

And, weirdly… it feels somewhat familiar.

Not the café itself, but the motions. Taking orders, keeping track of things, moving quickly from one task to the next.

I don’t remember ever working in a place like this, but something about it isn’t completely foreign.

I hand another order out, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.

Ethan watches from behind the counter, smirking. “See? Not bad for a rookie.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t jinx it.”

He chuckles. “No promises.”

The day passes by pretty quickly once the rush starts, and before long, we’re locking up for the night.

I wipe down the last table, stretching my sore arms. “That was… a lot.”

Ethan chuckles, flipping the sign to CLOSED. “Told you it picks up.”

I sigh, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, yeah. You win.”

He smirks. “I always win.”

I roll my eyes, too tired to argue. “So,” I say, crossing my arms. “Am I officially hired, or was this all just free labor?”

Ethan grins. “Congrats, rookie. You’re in.”

“Yay,” I say unenthusiastically, stretching out my sore arms.

Ethan chuckles. “Try to contain your excitement.”

“Yeah, yeah. So… what exactly am I being paid?” I ask, realizing I never actually thought to ask before agreeing to this.

He smirks. “Oh, you wanted to be paid?”

I stare at him, deadpan. “Haha.”

He laughs, tossing me a rag to finish wiping down the counter. “Don’t worry, you’ll get a normal paycheck. I’m not a monster.”

“Debatable,” I mutter.

“I can hear you,” Ethan says, smirking.

I gasp dramatically. “Oh no, whatever will I do?”

He leans against the counter, crossing his arms. “You should be scared. I have the power to make your life very annoying.”

I roll my eyes. “Pretty sure you’re already doing that.”

He grins. “Then I must be doing something right.”

“Alright, seriously,” I say, crossing my arms. “What’s the pay?”

Ethan smirks but finally gives a real answer. “$16 an hour, plus tips.”

I blink. “Wait, seriously?”

He shrugs. “Hey, I’m not completely terrible. We actually pay decently here.”

I nod slowly, processing that. It’s not amazing, but it’s way better than I expected.

“Plus,” he adds, “if you stick around long enough, we might even bump you up to $17. But, y’know, only if you survive the trial period.”

I sigh. “Right. No pressure or anything.”

Ethan grins. “None at all.”

“Alright, so we’re done for the day. Now what?” I ask, already hoping the answer is go home and sleep.

Ethan stretches, cracking his neck. “Now we clean for tomorrow.”

I stare at him. “Oh.”

He smirks. “What, you thought closing just meant flipping the sign and walking out?”

“…I was hoping,” I admit.

He laughs. “Nope. Welcome to the glamorous world of food service.”

I sigh, grabbing a rag. “Fine. But if I pass out from exhaustion, I’m blaming you.”

Just as we finish wiping down the last table and putting everything away, I glance at the clock.

12:47 AM.

“Jeez,” I mutter, rubbing my eyes. “Didn’t realize it was this late.”

Ethan yawns, stretching his arms behind his head. “Yeah, closing shifts kinda suck. You get used to it, though.”

I groan. “Great. Something to look forward to.”

He chuckles. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. You’re probably about to drop.”

Bus time, I think, already dreading the wait.

But as we step outside and Ethan locks up the café, he walks right past the sidewalk—

And steps up to a car.

I stop, blinking. “Wait… you have a car?”

He smirks over his shoulder. “What, you thought I walked everywhere?”

I cross my arms. “Honestly? Yeah.”

He chuckles, unlocking the doors. “Well, you’re in luck, because I’m not making you take the bus at almost 1 AM. Get in.”

I hesitate for a second, but… he’s got a point. The bus this late would be a nightmare.

I sigh, pulling the passenger door open. “Fine. But if you play anything obnoxious on the radio, I’m jumping out.”

Ethan grins. “Noted.”

I slide into the passenger seat, pulling the door shut as Ethan starts the car. The engine hums to life, and the soft glow of the dashboard lights up his face.

“So,” he says, shifting into drive, “how’s it feel? First real day on the job, first ride in your boss’s car. Big milestones.”

I groan, leaning my head against the window. “If you keep calling yourself my boss, I’m jumping out at the next red light.”

He chuckles, pulling onto the road.

The city at night feels different—quieter, stretched out. I watch the streetlights blur past, my exhaustion catching up with me. The warmth of the car, the quiet hum of the road…

For the first time in a while, I don’t feel like I’m constantly running.

I exhale, letting my body relax slightly.

“Thanks,” I mumble.

Ethan glances at me, raising an eyebrow. “For what?”

I shift in my seat, staring at the passing streets. “The job. The ride. The… I dunno. Not making things worse.”

He’s quiet for a second, then smirks. “Wow. High praise. I’ll take it.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s no real bite to it.

For now, I just let the city pass by.

The drive goes by faster than I expect, the quiet hum of the car and the blur of streetlights almost lulling me into a half-asleep daze.

Before I know it, Ethan pulls into a parking lot and shuts off the engine.

“Alright, we’re here,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt.

I blink, glancing up at the building. It’s a decent-sized apartment complex, not super fancy, but way better than anywhere I’ve been sleeping lately.

Ethan steps out, stretching. I follow, feeling a little out of place as I glance around.

“This is you?” I ask, still processing the fact that I’m actually staying here now.

“Yup.” He locks the car, then smirks. “Try not to look so shocked.”

I shake my head. “It’s just… a lot.”

He nods toward the entrance. “C’mon. You can panic about life inside, where there’s heat.”

I sigh and follow him in.

Ethan leads the way inside, the apartment building quiet this late at night.

The lobby is simple neutral colors, clean, nothing fancy. No weird smells, no sketchy people hanging around. Just a normal place.

We take the stairs up a couple of floors before stopping at a door.

Ethan unlocks it and pushes it open.

“Welcome to Casa de Ethan,” he says with a grin, stepping aside so I can walk in first.

I hesitate for a second before finally stepping inside.

And… it’s surprisingly normal.

A decent sized living room, a small kitchen to the right, a hallway leading to what I assume is a bedroom and bathroom. It’s lived in but not messy, a few dishes in the sink, a jacket thrown over the back of the couch, a couple of game controllers on the coffee table.

It’s… comfortable.

“You expecting a bachelor pad disaster?” Ethan teases, kicking off his shoes.

I shrug. “Honestly? A little. You’ve certainly built yourself up as somewhat of a playboy.”

He chuckles, walking toward the hallway. “Alright, so here’s the deal you take my room, I’ll crash on the couch.” He nods toward the door at the end of the hall. “Bed’s already made, bathroom’s next to it. Should be extra towels in there too.”

I stare at him. “You’re serious? After you made a whole point on the offer being ‘just a couch’?”

Ethan leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Yep. And I’m gonna order a pizza since neither of us have eaten.”

I hesitate again. “I don’t exactly have money.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry I’ll take it out of your paycheck.”

I squint at him. “That’s literally stealing.”

He grins. “No, that’s employee benefits.”

“Am I getting charged for shelter too?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Ethan smirks. “Maybe.”

I narrow my eyes. “How much is rent?”

He chuckles. “We’ll discuss rates after you’ve worked a full week.”

I groan, dropping onto the couch. “Scammer.”

He grins, already pulling out his phone. “I’m gonna call them what do you want?”

I sigh, accepting my fate. “Just get whatever. As long as it’s food, I don’t care.”

Ethan nods. “Got it one overpriced pizza coming right up.”

I pull out the journal, flipping to a blank page to mark down my first day.
• Got a job (somehow).
• Ethan is technically my boss but didn’t tell me right away because he’s a menace.
• Made it through the lunch rush without breaking anything.
• Now apparently living here.
• Pizza is part of my paycheck, apparently.
I sigh, tapping the pen against the page.

“What’s that?” Ethan asks, flopping onto the couch after finishing the order.

I glance up. “Journal. Doctor gave it to me to write stuff down in case I remember anything.”

He tilts his head. “And? Any big revelations?”

I scoff. “Other than the fact that I’m way too trusting? No.”

Ethan grins. “Hey, could be worse. You could’ve ended up working for someone way less cool.”

I roll my eyes. “Debatable.”

Ethan leans over slightly, trying to peek at what I’m writing.

I tilt the journal away. “Eyes to yourself.”

He smirks. “What, afraid I’ll see all the nice things you secretly think about me?”

I give him a flat look. “Yes, that’s exactly it. I was just writing a heartfelt sonnet about how amazing you are.”

He chuckles. “Figured.”

Shaking my head, I go back to my notes. There’s nothing new, no sudden flashes of memory, no voices. Just… today.

A normal, regular day.

And honestly? That’s strange in itself.

Ever since I woke up in that alley, it’s been constant confusion—the shelter, the weird dreams, the shadows. But today?

Today just felt like a normal life.

Ethan stretches, leaning back on the couch. “Pizza should be here in like twenty minutes.”

I nod, closing the journal. “Cool.”

For a moment, we just sit there, the quiet hum of the city outside filling the space.

“How about a movie?” he says, grabbing the remote.

“What exactly do you have in mind?” I ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

Ethan smirks, flipping through a streaming menu. “Well, that depends. Are you in the mood for mind-blowing action, a deep emotional journey, or something so bad it’s good?”

I cross my arms. “I feel like if I leave this decision to you, I’m gonna regret it.”

He chuckles. “Probably. But that’s half the fun.”

I sigh. “Alright, let’s hear your top picks.”

He leans forward, scrolling dramatically. “Option one Over the top explosions, terrible one liners, and zero logic.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Sounds great.”

“Option two Something critically acclaimed that’ll make you question your entire existence.”

I squint. “Why would I want that?”

Ethan shrugs. “You’re already having an identity crisis. Might as well commit.”

I glare at him.

He grins. “And option three the absolute worst movie I can find, purely for entertainment value.”

I hesitate, then sigh. “That one.”

His grin widens. “Knew you had good taste.”

“Next time, I’m picking.”

Ethan smirks, not even looking away from the screen. “So there’s a next time?”

I pause, realizing what I just said.

I cross my arms. “This isn’t a date.”

He chuckles. “I didn’t say it was.”

I narrow my eyes. “You implied it.”

He grins. “Did I? Or are you just overthinking it?”

I groan, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at him. “Just start the stupid movie.”

Ethan laughs, dodging the pillow effortlessly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Seriously? Dirty Dancing?” I stare at the screen in disbelief. “You said the absolute worst movie you could find!”

Ethan grins. “Exactly.”

I groan, sinking back into the couch. “This is just an excuse for you to watch something you secretly like, isn’t it?”

He smirks. “I’ll never admit to that.”

I roll my eyes. “Unbelievable.”

“Hey, you picked option three. You just made an assumption.”

I glare at him. “I hate you.”

He chuckles, pressing play. “Nobody puts Artemis in a corner.”

I squint at him. “I’m right. You definitely secretly love this movie otherwise, you wouldn’t be quoting it.”

Ethan raises an eyebrow. “How do you even remember that it’s a quote?”

I freeze for a second.

My mind goes completely blank.

How do I remember that?

“Honestly? I don’t know.” I frown, shifting slightly. “But amnesia is weird. People still remember, like, what the United States is and stuff. It’s not like they forget everything just… personal stuff.”

Ethan nods slowly, studying me. “So, pop culture and random quotes? Still in there. But your own life? Gone.”

I exhale. “I guess.”

He leans back, thoughtful. “That’s gotta be frustrating.”

I scoff. “Understatement of the year.”

Ethan smirks. “Well, at least you remembered something important.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

He gestures toward the screen as the movie starts.

“That Dirty Dancing is an absolute classic.”

I groan. “Oh my god, just watch the movie.”

Ethan just laughs, clearly pleased with himself, before finally settling in.

I sigh, pulling the blanket up around me as the movie starts.

For a while, we actually watch in silence—which is shocking, considering how much he likes to talk.

“You know,” Ethan says, glancing at me, “if you really wanted, I could teach you how to dance like that.”

I turn my head slowly. “Absolutely not.”

He smirks. “What, scared I’ll drop you?”

I scoff. “More like scared I’ll punch you if you try to lift me.”

Ethan chuckles. “Fine, fine. Offer’s on the table, though.”

I roll my eyes and focus back on the movie, but I can still feel his grin lingering.

This guy is insufferable.

Of course, he picked this.

Whether the flirting is just to mess with me or actually real, it’s no less frustrating.

I cross my arms, trying to focus on the movie instead of whatever game he’s playing.

Ethan, of course, just looks way too pleased with himself, completely relaxed like he’s having the best night ever.

I exhale slowly. Just get through the movie, Artemis. Ignore him. You can do this.

The doorbell rings, cutting through the moment.

Ethan immediately perks up. “Saved by the pizza.”

I narrow my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean? Were you planning something?”

He chuckles, standing up. “Maybe.” He heads to the door, grabbing his wallet.

As he opens it, I call after him, “If you tip less than five bucks, I’m judging you.”

He glances back, smirking. “I always tip good on dates.” Then, after a beat, “And for things that aren’t dates.”

I grab a pillow and throw it at him.

He dodges, laughing. “Gotta be faster than that, rookie.”

I groan, crossing my arms as Ethan opens the door.

He exchanges a few words with the delivery guy, hands over the cash (including a tip, I make sure to check), and grabs the pizza before kicking the door shut with his foot.

Turning back to me, he holds up the box with a grin. “Hope you’re hungry.”

I roll my eyes but sit up, reaching for it. “Starving.”

He moves it out of reach.

I glare. “Ethan.”

He smirks. “Magic word?”

I narrow my eyes. “If you make me say ‘please’ just to get a slice of pizza, I swear—”

He laughs, finally dropping the box onto the coffee table. “Relax, I’m not that evil.”

I open it immediately, the smell hitting me all at once. “Oh my god.”

Ethan grabs a slice and flops back onto the couch. “Better than shelter food?”

I give him a flat look but take a bite.

It’s really good.

I sigh, leaning back. “Fine. I’ll admit it. This is the best thing that’s happened to me all day.”

Ethan grins. “See? I do make life better.”

I shake my head, grabbing another slice. “Don’t push it.”

“You like me, don’t lie,” Ethan says, grinning. “My rugged good looks, my suave charm I’m irresistible.”

I take a slow bite of pizza, staring at him blankly. “Uh-huh.”

His grin widens. “See? You didn’t even deny it.”

I sigh dramatically. “You’re exhausting.”

He smirks, leaning back, “you’re still here.”

I roll my eyes. “Because I have nowhere else to go.”

Ethan gasps, placing a hand over his chest. “Wow. Way to make it sound tragic.”

I smirk. “If the shoe fits.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re gonna be so much fun to mess with.”

I groan. “Great. Can’t wait.”

“I’ll get some drinks,” Ethan says, standing up and stretching.

I nod, still focused on my pizza. “Nothing weird.”

He pauses, smirking. “Define ‘weird.’”

I glare. “Ethan.”

He chuckles, walking toward the kitchen. “What’s wrong with alcohol?”

I blink. “I don’t even know if I’m old enough to actually drink.”

Ethan grins, leaning against the fridge. “That’s the perfect excuse.”

I sigh, rubbing my temples. “Absolutely not.”

He laughs, grabbing a couple of sodas instead. “Fine, fine. But I will be celebrating when we figure out your birthday.”

I shake my head, taking the can when he tosses it to me. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

“What, you don’t think you’ll still be my friend by then?” Ethan asks, plopping back onto the couch.

I crack open the soda, smirking. “I’m not sure if you’ll live that long.”

He grins. “Threats?”

I take a sip. “Observations.”

Ethan chuckles, shaking his head. “Damn. You’re meaner than you look.”

I shrug. “You bring it out of me.”

He raises his can. “To a long and hopefully painless friendship.”

I roll my eyes but clink my can against his. “No promises.”

We watch the movie mostly in silence, the occasional comment here and there but nothing too distracting.

Then, Cry to Me starts playing.

I immediately realize what scene this is.

I glance over at Ethan, feeling my face heat up a bit as the movie gets… well, intense.

Without missing a beat, he casually drapes his arm over my shoulder—the cheesiest move ever.

I stare at him. “Seriously?”

He grins. “Just getting into the spirit of the movie.”

I narrow my eyes. “This is literally the worst timing.”

“Or the best timing,” he counters, smirking.

I sigh, debating whether to shove his arm off or pretend it’s not happening.

Ethan doesn’t move his arm, and as the scene continues, he leans in slightly.

“You know,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing, “if this was a date, this would be the perfect moment.”

I scoff, trying to ignore the way my face gets even warmer. “Good thing it’s not, then.”

He chuckles. “You keep saying that, but you’re not exactly pushing me away.”

I glance at him, fully prepared to argue, but… I don’t.

Because, if I’m being completely honest…

I kind of like it.

The way he teases, the way he’s just a little too smooth for his own good. It’s annoying, but at the same time…

It’s nice. Comfortable, in a weird way.

I roll my eyes, leaning back slightly. “You’re insufferable.”

Ethan smirks. “Yet you’re still watching this movie with me.”

“Unfortunately...” I say.

At this point, our faces are close, our breaths mixing in the small space between us.

My heart pounds.

Ethan’s smirk fades just slightly, his teasing edge softening into something else as he leans in.

I freeze, my mind going completely blank.

Is this really happening?

Do I… want it to happen?

Ethan leans in closer, his breath warm against my skin.

I don’t move. I can’t.

My heart pounds so loudly I’m sure he can hear it.

His eyes flicker to mine, almost like he’s waiting, giving me a chance to pull away.

But I don’t.

I should.

I don’t.

The space between us disappears—

Then—

A loud knock at the door.

I jump back, face burning as Ethan lets out a groan, dropping his head against the couch. “Are you kidding me?”

I exhale, pressing a hand to my very warm face. “You should probably get that.”

Ethan grumbles, standing up and heading to the door.

I take the moment to breathe, trying to figure out what the hell just almost happened.

On the bright side, I got to see his reaction to the interruption.

Ethan looked genuinely annoyed, which honestly? Kind of satisfying.

But as I sit there, still trying to cool down, another thought creeps in.

Who the hell is knocking at this hour?

I glance at the clock.

1:42 AM.

Ethan reaches the door, hesitating for a second before unlocking it.

The moment it swings open his entire posture changes.

Before I can even process what’s happening, a shadowy figure grabs him and throws him across the room like he weighs nothing.

I barely manage to get up before the figure turns toward me.

“Ethan!”

He groans, struggling to push himself up from where he crashed against the floor.

My heart pounds as the figure steps toward me.

Without thinking, I grab the nearest thing, a lamp off the side table raising it like a weapon.

“Stay back!” I shout, my grip tightening around the base.

The figure doesn’t stop.

It moves slowly, deliberately, the dim light casting unnatural shadows across its body.

I take a step back, my breath coming fast.

What the hell is happening?

I swing as hard as I can, the lamp cutting through the air.

But…

It goes straight through the figure like it’s not even there.

Before I can react, a cold, crushing force slams into me.

Everything blurs.

And suddenly.

I’m back on the couch.

Ethan is right there, our faces close, his breath mixing with mine.

Like nothing happened.

Like I never moved.

My heart is still racing, my body tense, but wasn’t I just…?

I jerk back.

“What the hell?!”

Ethan blinks, looking confused. “Uh… you okay?”

I stare at him, my breathing uneven, my mind trying to catch up.

What the hell just happened?

I push off the couch, heart pounding, and move straight to the front door.

Ethan calls after me. “Artemis? What—?”

I ignore him, my hands shaking as I press my eye to the peephole.

The hallway outside is empty.

No shadowy figure.

No signs of what just happened.

Just… nothing.

But I know what I saw.

I know what I felt.

Ethan steps up behind me. “What are you doing?”

I swallow hard, still staring out the peephole like something might just appear.

“Did you hear a knock?” I ask, my voice quieter than I expect.

Ethan pauses. “No?”

I slowly step back from the door.

Did I just… imagine it?

“I’m sorry I pushed you, I—” Ethan starts, rubbing the back of his neck.

I shake my head. “No, it’s not that. I just…”

His brows furrow, his usual cocky demeanor gone. “Did you remember something?”

I hesitate, still feeling the lingering cold from whatever just happened.

“Not really.” I exhale slowly. “I saw something, but it wasn’t a memory.”

Ethan studies me for a second. “What do you mean?”

I glance back at the door, half expecting it to fly open.

“I mean… I was just over there, fighting something.” I swallow hard. “And then suddenly, I was back here. Like it never happened.”

Ethan doesn’t joke.

For once, he looks serious.

“Artemis,” he says carefully. “What exactly did you see?”

"There was a knock on the door," I say, still trying to process it myself. "A shadow guy attacked us he grabbed you, threw you across the room, and then came at me."

Ethan’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t interrupt.

I take a shaky breath. "I tried to hit him, but my swing just went straight through him… And when he hit me—" I shake my head. "Suddenly, I was back on the couch. Like nothing happened. Like no time passed at all."

Ethan stares at me, silent for a long moment.

"What the hell?”

“My thoughts exactly…” I mutter, rubbing my arms as a chill lingers over me.

But as much as I want to believe what I saw, there’s only one logical conclusion.

“I’m going crazy,” I say under my breath. “Hallucinating or something. That’s the only explanation.”

Ethan frowns, crossing his arms. “You don’t seem crazy to me.”

I let out a dry laugh. “That’s exactly what a crazy person would want you to think.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, but this wasn’t just some weird dream? You seemed like you almost were about to fall asleep before the pizza showed up.”

I hesitate, because was it? A dream? A stress induced vision?

…Or was it real?

I sigh, rubbing my temples. “I guess it must’ve been.”

Even as I say it, the words feel off.

The timing wasn’t great I definitely wasn’t asleep, but I guess… daydreaming is possible. Stress, exhaustion, whatever.

I exhale slowly. “Sorry for ruining the moment.”

Ethan smiles a little, shaking his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His voice is softer than usual, none of his usual teasing edge.

“I mean,” he continues, “it’s not like you chose for that to happen to you.”

I look at him for a second, feeling an odd warmth in my chest.

Ethan might be infuriating, but… he’s not wrong.

“I should probably get some rest,” I say, rubbing my arms.

Ethan nods. “Yeah, you’ve had a long day. You deserve the rest.”

I glance at him. “Thanks.” I pause, shifting slightly. “Really. For everything.”

He gives me a small smile, softer than usual. “Anytime.”

I stop in front of him for a second, my heart pounding—

Then, before I can overthink it, I lean in and kiss him quickly.

It’s brief, barely a second.

I pull back, my face warm, and walk away before he can say anything, slipping into the bedroom and shutting the door behind me.

I lean against it, heart racing.

What the hell did I just do?

I exhale, pressing my back against the door as I try to steady myself.

Shaking off the thoughts threatening to spiral, I move toward the bed.

I should write down everything that happened tonight.

The weird shadow guy. The sudden reset.

And…

I stare at the page for a second before slowly writing…

I kissed Ethan.

My face heats up all over again.

I shake my head and keep going, focusing on what actually matters.

If what I saw wasn’t just a hallucination, then…

What the hell is happening to me?

I mean, there’s no way it wasn’t a hallucination… right?

And yet…

It felt so real…

The cold when it hit me. The weight of the lamp in my hands. The sheer force when Ethan was thrown across the room.

Do hallucinations feel like that?

I tap the pen against the paper, staring at what I’ve written.

If it was just in my head, why did it feel like I was actually there? Like I was living it?

I shake my head. I’m overthinking.

It has to be stress. Exhaustion. A brain trying to fill in the blanks where memories should be.

…Right?

But then if it wasn’t real why does saying that feel so wrong…

Tomorrow, I meet the caseworker.

Six days until my next psych visit assuming I’m not completely insane by then.

I sigh, shutting the journal and setting it aside.

It’s late. I’m exhausted. And thinking about this more isn’t going to magically make it make sense.

I crawl into bed, pulling the blanket over me.

For now, I just need to sleep.

Maybe when I wake up, everything will feel normal again.

I close my eyes, willing myself to sleep.

But it doesn’t come easily.

My mind keeps replaying everything the knock, the shadow, the way it felt real and then suddenly… wasn’t.

And the kiss.

I groan, burying my face in the pillow. Why did I do that?

Ethan’s probably smirking to himself right now, acting like he won some kind of game.

I exhale slowly, forcing myself to let it go.

Tomorrow, I meet the caseworker.

That’s what matters.

That’s what I need to focus on.

Eventually, exhaustion wins, and I drift into sleep.

And then I start dreaming.

It’s dark, but not like night, more like a void, stretching endlessly in every direction.

Footsteps echo somewhere ahead.

I turn, but there’s nothing just that endless emptiness.

“Artemis… run.”

My blood runs cold.

I know that voice.

I don’t know how, but I do.

I try to move, but my body won’t respond.

The darkness around me starts to shift something forming, something wrong.

End of chapter 2.

Eidolon Nexus: Echoes of Memory Chapter 3 A “Break”

Author: 

  • LightBringer

Caution: 

  • CAUTION: Violence

Audience Rating: 

  • Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication: 

  • Fiction

Genre: 

  • Transgender
  • Crossdressing
  • Transformations
  • Magic
  • Fantasy Worlds
  • Science Fiction
  • Other Worlds
  • Adventure
  • Comedy
  • Horror
  • Mystery or Suspense
  • Romance

Character Age: 

  • College / Twenties

TG Themes: 

  • Amnesia
  • Identity Crisis
  • Romantic

TG Elements: 

  • Memory Loss
  • Mmorpg / Virtual Reality
  • Slice of Life

Other Keywords: 

  • Eidolon Nexus

Permission: 

  • Posted by author(s)

A woman wakes in an alley with no name, no memories, and a haunting sense that something is terribly wrong. But one word stirs something deep Artemis. With only that name and flashes of strange things, she’s thrust into a world she doesn’t recognize. As she searches for clues to her identity and what happened to her it becomes clear her past isn’t just lost… it may be dangerous.
63552816-4D96-4882-A2B3-524242FA9F64.jpeg
This story is a follow up story to Eidolon Nexus: The Shattered Realm however it is not necessary to read the previous story if you don’t want to as with the main character having no memory it works if you have or haven’t read it. If you do wish to see the first story you can read it here https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/book-page/104648/eidolon-nexu...

Early access to new chapters, stories, and more plus votes and non canon XXX chapters here https://www.patreon.com/LightBringerStories?utm_campaign=cre...

Vote on a returning characters return for free via the link above! ^

Chapter 3

2-–3-5 -6

Ethan unlocks the apartment door, pushing it open with his usual ease. “Home sweet home,” he says, tossing his keys onto the counter.

I step inside, my feet aching from standing all day at the café. The apartment feels exactly the same as it did this morning, calm, normal, ordinary.

And yet, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.

Ethan notices my silence as I set my bag down. “You okay? You’ve been quiet since we left work.”

I glance at him, hesitating. “Yeah, just tired.”

He narrows his eyes like he doesn’t quite believe me but doesn’t press. Instead, he plops down on the couch, kicking off his shoes. “You killed it today, by the way. Not bad for your second day.”

I roll my eyes. “What, am I officially barista certified now?”

“Oh, definitely. Your latte art still sucks, but we’ll get there.” He grins, leaning back and propping his feet up on the coffee table.

I chuckle softly, more out of habit than humor, as I grab the journal from my bag and sit down at the kitchen table.

Ethan glances over. “Still keeping track of everything?”

“Yeah,” I say, flipping to a blank page. “It helps… organize my thoughts, I guess.”

He watches me for a moment, his grin softening. “That’s good. You’ve got a lot going on up there. Writing it out’s probably smart.”

I nod, not meeting his eyes. “It’s better than overthinking, I guess.”

“Hey, if you ever want to talk about it instead of writing it all down, I’m right here.”

His voice is softer now, less teasing, and it throws me off for a second. I glance at him, trying to read his expression.

“Thanks,” I say after a moment, my voice quieter than I expected.

Ethan nods, then shifts back into his usual tone. “Now, what’s for dinner? Or are we living off leftover pizza?”

I roll my eyes, but a small smile tugs at my lips. “I’m voting pizza.”

“Perfect. Reheating it is your job, though.”

I stand, heading to the fridge. Ethan may be ridiculous, but at least he makes things feel a little less heavy. For now, that’s enough.

At least it’s not as late as yesterday, I think, glancing at the clock. 10:24 PM.

I pull the leftover pizza out of the fridge, grabbing a plate while Ethan turns on the TV. He’s already half-lying on the couch, scrolling through channels like it’s a competitive sport.

“You’ve got exactly two options tonight,” he calls over his shoulder. “Cheesy sitcom reruns or terrible reality shows. Choose wisely.”

I sigh, sliding the pizza into the microwave. “Both of those sound like a punishment.”

“Hey, I’m offering you premium entertainment here. Don’t be ungrateful.”

The microwave dings, and I grab the plate, shaking my head as I walk over to the couch. “If this is premium, I don’t even want to know what the budget option is.”

Ethan smirks, patting the seat next to him. “Come on, sit down. Let’s unwind.”

I sit beside him, setting the plate on the coffee table and grabbing a slice. The room feels peaceful, normal, and for a moment, I let myself breathe.

But even as we watch TV, that nagging feeling from earlier stays with me.

I glance at the journal sitting on the table, thinking about everything I wrote down, the reflection, the dreams, the strange flashes.

What if it all means something?

“You sure you’re okay?” Ethan asks, glancing at me sideways. “I told you, you can talk to me.”

I take a bite of pizza, stalling for a moment before shaking my head. “I appreciate it, but really, I’d rather not.”

He leans back on the couch, his eyes lingering on me for a second longer than usual.

“If you change your mind,” he says, his voice softer than usual.

I nod, offering a small smile. “Thanks.”

Ethan gives me a quick grin, trying to lighten the mood. “No problem. Just don’t expect me to stop being nosy, it’s part of my charm.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the faint chuckle that slips out. For now, I keep the storm of thoughts in my head to myself.

Four days later, Ethan’s knocking on my bedroom door wakes me up.

“Artemis! Your caseworker’s on the phone!”

I blink a few times, scrambling out of bed, and rush to the door. He hands me the phone, looking mildly concerned but staying quiet.

I press the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Artemis? It’s Claire.”

“Did you find something?” I ask quickly, my heart pounding.

She pauses, and the hesitation in her voice makes my stomach drop. “I’m afraid not. We ran your fingerprints and couldn’t find anything, which isn’t unusual in cases like this, but…”

“But?”

Claire sighs softly. “There are a few missing persons named Artemis, but none of them are the right one.”

I feel my heart sink. “Okay, so what now?”

“I pulled a few strings to get a facial recognition search done, and… there’s no record.”

It’s like the air has been sucked out of the room.

I take a step back into the bedroom, my hand gripping the edge of the door as I push it shut behind me. “What?”

“This isn’t the worst, Artemis,” Claire says, her voice firm, trying to sound reassuring. “It just means we have to dig deeper and widen the search.”

“What does that even mean?” I manage, my voice trembling.

“We’re going to expand to missing persons in other countries, and we’ve also put out a missing persons report for you locally, just in case someone recognizes you.”

I press my free hand against my forehead, trying to steady myself.

“The facial recognition software isn’t perfect,” Claire continues gently. “And I don’t want you losing hope, Artemis. It’s even possible you were from somewhere nearby, but for whatever reason, there’s no official record yet.”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “So… that’s it? Just keep waiting?”

“For now, yes. But we won’t stop looking. Keep focusing on your daily routine, and if you remember anything, even the smallest detail, let me know immediately.”

I hesitate, the words bubbling up before I can stop them.

“Can you search for males?”

There’s a pause on the other end. “What was that, Artemis?”

I take a deep breath. “I… I think I might be trans. A few days ago, I saw someone, and I think it was me. Or used to be me.”

“You saw?” Claire asks, her tone cautious but curious.

“In a window. A reflection,” I explain, gripping the phone tighter. “It looked like me, but… not me. A guy. Shorter hair, different face, but the same eyes. I think—” I hesitate. “I think it might’ve been me. Or who I used to be.”

There’s a pause on her end before she speaks again, her voice measured. “Is it possible that ‘Artemis’ wasn’t officially documented into being… a girl?” I ask, my words spilling out faster than I intend.

“It’s possible,” Claire says carefully. “But extremely unlikely, given the systems we’ve checked. Most changes like that, if there were any, would still be tied to your original identity. It would’ve shown up in one of our searches.”

I bite my lip, pacing the room. “So… what does that mean? That I’m imagining it?”

“Not necessarily,” Claire says gently. “Your memory is fragmented, and your brain could be trying to piece things together. But if you genuinely think this is something we should explore, I can widen the search to include male identities, just to rule it out.”

My chest feels tight, a mix of relief and uncertainty swirling inside me. “Can you do that?”

“Of course. It might take longer, but it’s worth a shot.” She pauses. “Artemis, I want you to keep focusing on anything else you might remember, images, names, feelings. Anything could help. Even if it’s small.”

“I will,” I whisper. “Thank you.”

“Hang in there, Artemis. We’re not giving up on this.”

Then the call ends… If I wasn’t always Artemis… then who was I? And why doesn’t anything feel like it fits?

I sit on the bed, turning the phone over in my hands as my thoughts spiral.

I mean… I don’t feel trans. Is that even a thing? I just feel like a girl.

The reflection, the short hair, the sharp jawline, it doesn’t feel like me. Not really. But… it still feels connected to me, like it’s something I can’t ignore.

Ethan knocks softly on the door before stepping in. “What did they say?”

I look up at him, exhaling slowly. “They… they didn’t find anything.” My voice is quieter than I expected. “And I’m starting to think they won’t.”

“Don’t say that,” Ethan says quickly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m sure they’ll figure out who you were. And even if they don’t, you’ll remember on your own. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Yeah, sure,” I mumble, staring at the floor.

He leans closer, his voice softer. “Hey. I mean it. Don’t lose hope yet. You’re figuring things out, even if it doesn’t feel like it. It’s not easy, but you’ll get there.”

I nod absently, but deep down, I can’t shake the feeling that this is bigger than anyone realizes. And even if the answers are out there, I’m not sure I’ll like what I find.

“Come on, I know just the way to cheer you up,” Ethan says, standing and grabbing his keys.

“What about the café? We’re the only ones who work there.”

“It’ll stay closed for the day.” He grins, already heading toward the door.

I stand up quickly, following him. “You can’t do that! You’ll get in trouble.”

He glances back, his grin turning into a playful wink. “I’m the boss, remember?”

“I’m serious, Ethan!” I say, grabbing his arm to stop him. “Your dad wants you to take on more responsibility. If you keep doing stuff like this, you could get in serious trouble.”

Ethan pauses, his smile faltering for a moment before he sighs and turns to face me fully. “Look, I get it, alright? But one day isn’t going to tank the business, and you’ve been through enough. You need a break something fun. So, come on. Let me be irresponsible for like, five minutes.”

I fold my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. “This feels like an awful plan.”

“It’s my specialty.” He smirks, shaking his keys. “So, are you coming or not?”

“Where?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

Ethan’s smirk widens. “It’s a surprise.”

I fold my arms. “You can’t just expect me to get in a car and go somewhere without telling me where we’re going.”

“Sure I can. Trust me.” He jingles the keys again like it’s supposed to be convincing.

“Ethan,” I say, my tone warning.

“Fine, fine,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender. “We’re going somewhere fun. A little bit of fresh air, maybe some good food, something to make you forget about all this stress. You deserve it.”

I sigh, knowing I’m probably going to regret this. “If this is another one of your ‘charm’ attempts—”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything about charm!” he says, grinning as he opens the door. “But if you happen to fall for me along the way, I won’t complain.”

“Ethan!”

“Relax,” he says, laughing as he steps into the hall. “You’ll love it. I promise.”

“You’re really doing this,” I say, giving Ethan a skeptical look as I grab my jacket.

“Of course I am,” he says, grinning as he jingles his keys again. “You’re my friend and coworker/servant, and I take care of my friends.”

I freeze, staring at him. “Did you just call me your servant?!”

“It’s a joke, relax,” he says, laughing. “And my dad will get it, okay? He likes you anyway.”

I blink. “He does?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t he?”

I pause, thinking back. I’ve only met his dad three times. Every other day, he pops into the café for a few hours, and I’ve barely exchanged more than polite greetings with him.

“Come on,” Ethan says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You’re overthinking it. He likes you, trust me. Now let’s go.”

I sigh, following him out the door. “I better not regret this.”

“You won’t,” he says with a wink. “Unless you hate fun. Then, yeah, you might regret it.”

“Your idea of fun scares me,” I say, narrowing my eyes at Ethan as we head to the car. “Along with your extremely lacking description.”

Ethan grins as he unlocks the car, opening the passenger door for me. “That’s part of the charm, keeping you guessing.”

“More like keeping me anxious,” I mutter as I slide into the seat.

He laughs, closing the door and getting into the driver’s side. “Relax. Worst case scenario, it’s a disaster, and you hold it over my head forever. Best case? You’ll owe me for showing you a good time.”

“Not a lot of confidence in the middle ground, huh?”

“Where’s the fun in middle ground?” Ethan smirks, starting the car. “Buckle up, Artemis. You’re about to have the time of your life.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile that creeps onto my face. Whatever he’s planning, it better not involve anything illegal… or humiliating.

A short drive later.

“Come on, we’re here,” Ethan says, pulling into a parking spot and shutting off the car.

I glance out the window and frown. “This is… a museum? You brought me to a museum?”

“Yes,” he says, turning to me with a mock-serious expression. “What, are you disappointed?”

“I mean, a little,” I admit, crossing my arms. “It’s certainly a more tame choice than I’d expect from you.”

He smirks. “What, you thought I’d take you bungee jumping?”

“No,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “I just… I don’t know, maybe a club or something.”

“Artemis, it’s 9:45 in the morning.”

“I said or something!”

Ethan chuckles, opening his door and stepping out. “This is just part one of many parts, my skeptical friend. You’ve gotta trust the process.”

I sigh, reluctantly following him out of the car. “I’m already regretting this.”

“You won’t by the end,” he says, grinning as he holds the door open for me. “I guarantee it.”

I step through the door, still not entirely sold on this “trust the process” nonsense Ethan keeps talking about.

The museum lobby is spacious, with high ceilings and soft lighting. A huge banner hangs overhead, showcasing a rotating exhibit on ancient myths and legends.

Ethan sidles up next to me, grinning. “See? Already cool, right?”

I glance at the banner, then back at him. “You think myths and legends are going to cheer me up?”

“Not just myths and legends,” he says, wagging a finger as he pulls out two tickets from his jacket pocket. “There’s also a section on historical weapons and artifacts. You’ll love it.”

I can’t help but raise an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you know I’ll love it?”

Ethan shrugs, still grinning. “Call it a hunch.”

I sigh but let him lead the way as he hands our tickets to the attendant. “Fine. But if this is boring, I’m holding it against you forever.”

“Noted,” he says, holding the door open to the main exhibit hall. “Prepare to be amazed.”

The first room we step into is dimly lit, with display cases lining the walls. Inside each one are objects that look… ancient. Weapons, scrolls, even fragments of what looks like a shield.

I step closer to one of the cases, squinting at the label. “Fragment of the Moonlit Hunter’s Bow.”

Something about the name sends a chill down my spine, and for a moment, I feel like I’ve seen it before.

Ethan’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “You good?”

I blink, shaking my head as the feeling fades. “Yeah, just… weird déjà vu, I guess.”

“See?” He smirks. “Told you this place was cool.”

I glance back at the fragment, my unease lingering. “Cool isn’t the word I’d use…”

Guys are always obsessed with all this stuff, swords and weapons, it’s silly, I think, trailing behind Ethan as he practically bounces from display to display like a kid in a candy store.

He stops in front of a glass case showcasing an ornate, curved blade. “Check this out!” he says, tapping the description. “This is a real scimitar from the 15th century. Look at the detail on the hilt, imagine using something like this in a fight.”

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. “You know it’s not a real fight if you’re busy admiring the hilt, right?”

Ethan laughs. “Come on, you don’t think this stuff’s at least a little cool? Like, imagine wielding something like this in some epic battle.”

I shrug, glancing at the blade. “Not really. It just seems… impractical.”

“Impractical?” He turns to me, mock-offended. “It’s a masterpiece of craftsmanship and history! What’s impractical about it?”

I smirk. “You’d probably trip over your own feet trying to swing it.”

“Harsh,” Ethan says, shaking his head but laughing. “Alright, fine. No weapons for you. Let’s find something a little more your speed, maybe maybe this way.”

I follow him glancing back at the scimitar one last time. For a second, I swear it almost feels familiar, like... never mind.

But that’s ridiculous. Right?

Ethan walks ahead, leading the way toward the another room, muttering about the “unappreciated beauty of historical weapons.”

Statues line the walls, everything from ancient busts to abstract, twisted shapes that barely resemble anything human. In the middle of the room is the centerpiece, a tall, spiraling figure made of stone and metal, its jagged edges glowing faintly under the soft lights.

“Okay,” Ethan says, turning to me with a smirk. “I bet even you can’t call this boring.”

I cross my arms, giving the spiral sculpture a once over. “It’s… something.”

“Something cool, right?”

“Something weird,” I correct, but my tone is light.

We wander around for a bit, Ethan pointing out the stranger pieces and trying to make me laugh with ridiculous interpretations. “This one’s clearly a chair. A very uncomfortable chair.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling.

Then I stop in front of one of the statues near the back of the room.

It’s small, no taller than my waist, and carved from a dark, almost black stone. The figure is humanoid but larger, elongated, its face blank except for two hollow eyes that seem to follow me no matter where I stand.

“Creepy,” Ethan says, peering over my shoulder. “What’s it supposed to be?”

I glance at the plaque. “The Watcher.”

The name sends a shiver down my spine. I step back, rubbing my arms.

Ethan notices my reaction, frowning slightly. “You okay?”

I nod quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just… gives me the creeps, that’s all.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. That thing’s nightmare fuel.” He grabs my arm gently, steering me away. “Let’s check out something less terrifying.”

But as we walk away, I can’t shake the feeling that the statue’s hollow eyes are still watching me.

“Artemis, run!”

The voice comes from behind me, sharp and urgent, sending a chill down my spine.

I spin around, my heart racing. The lights overhead flicker violently, casting the room into a series of disorienting flashes.

“Ethan?” I call, panic rising in my chest as I glance around. The bustling museum I was just in is… gone.

The sculptures stand in eerie silence, shadows stretching and twisting in unnatural ways under the flickering lights. Ethan’s nowhere to be seen. The other visitors, the faint hum of voices, all gone.

“Who’s there?” I demand, my voice trembling.

No answer.

My breath catches as the room seems to warp around me. The walls stretch farther away, the sculptures distorting into shapes that don’t make sense. One of them, a jagged, spiraling form shifts, as if it’s alive, its edges trembling in the flickering light.

Then, the Watcher.

The small, black statue I’d been staring at moments ago… it moves.

Its head tilts toward me, the hollow eyes glowing faintly now. A low, guttural sound begins to echo through the room.

I step back, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. “Ethan?” I shout again, my voice breaking.

The Watcher’s elongated arms begin to shift, stretching unnaturally as its body starts to unfold.

“Run, Artemis!” the voice screams again, louder this time, and I feel my legs moving before I can even think.

I sprint toward the door we came in through, but the hallway beyond is pitch black. The museum around me feels endless now, like it’s swallowed up everything real.

Behind me, the sound of something scraping across the floor grows louder.

I glance back.

The Watcher is moving, its hollow eyes locked on me, its unnatural limbs crawling toward me faster than they should be able to.

“What the hell is this?” I cry, my voice echoing in the empty space.

The darkness ahead seems to stretch, the exit impossibly far away. My breath comes in short, ragged bursts as I push myself to run faster, the guttural sound behind me growing closer.

“Artemis, RUN!”

The Watcher is moving, its hollow eyes locked on me, its unnatural limbs crawling toward me faster than they should be able to.

“What the hell is this?” I cry, my voice echoing in the empty space.

The darkness ahead seems to stretch, the exit impossibly far away. My breath comes in short, ragged bursts as I push myself to run faster, the guttural sound behind me growing closer.

“Artemis, RUN!” The voice is deafening now.

The statue no longer looks as it did. It’s no longer humanoid in any way, its form is twisted and monstrous now, its elongated limbs spiraling and writhing like living shadows.

“What the hell is happening?” I gasp, stumbling forward, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. “Where am I? This… this can’t be real. I’m dreaming. I’m hallucinating.”

But everything feels too real. The cold air slicing through the room, the flickering lights casting jagged shadows on the distorted walls, the scraping, guttural sounds that grow louder as the thing behind me moves closer.

I glance back over my shoulder, and the sight makes my stomach drop. The Watcher or whatever it’s become, has expanded, its mass spreading across the floor like a living shadow, its tendrils reaching out in every direction. Its hollow eyes are now glowing bright white, unblinking and locked on me.

“This isn’t real,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “It can’t be.”

The floor beneath my feet shifts, rippling as if it’s alive. I stumble, barely catching myself before I fall. The walls around me stretch and bend, the hallway I was running toward disappearing entirely, replaced by a swirling void of darkness.

“Artemis, RUN!”

The air feels heavier with every step, like the darkness is trying to pull me down, to swallow me whole. My breathing is ragged, my chest burning, but I can’t stop. I don’t dare stop.

Behind me, the Watcher screeches a horrible, bone chilling sound that echoes through the warped space.

“This isn’t real,” I repeat, tears stinging my eyes as I run. “It’s not real!”

I keep running, my breaths coming in shallow, panicked gasps. But as I glance over my shoulder, the thing chasing me the Watcher, or whatever it became, is gone.

All that’s left is the void.

The museum, the flickering lights, even the distorted walls are gone now. It’s just me, standing in endless, empty darkness.

“Where did it…?” I whisper, spinning around, trying to make sense of what’s happening.

I should feel relieved that it’s gone, that I’m not being chased anymore, but I don’t. If anything, the silence is worse.

Because now I’m not being chased.

I’m just lost.

My chest tightens, the weight of the emptiness pressing down on me like I’m sinking. There’s no sense of direction, no landmarks, no sound except for the faint echo of my own breathing.

“Hello?” I call out, my voice trembling. It echoes back at me, sounding small and distant.

I take a shaky step forward, then another, but the void stretches endlessly in every direction. It feels like I’m walking in place, like I’ll never get anywhere.

“This isn’t real,” I say again, my voice cracking. “This can’t be real.”

But the pounding in my chest, the ache in my legs, the cold air on my skin, it all feels real. Too real.

“Ethan? Anyone?” I shout, my voice echoing again, fading into the void.

I stop walking, my fists clenched at my sides as a wave of frustration and fear crashes over me. “What is this? Where am I?!”

I sink to my knees. I don’t know where I am, I don’t know where to go, and I don’t know how to get out.

“What do I do now?” I whisper to myself, my voice barely audible.

Suddenly, I hear two voices, one of them is my own.

“I thought… I thought I was alone,” I admit, my voice trembling.

“You’re not,” the second voice replies firmly. It’s the same voice that’s been telling me to run, steady and certain. “And you never will be.”

“Hello?” I call out, my voice echoing into the void. But the second voice doesn’t respond.

Instead, a new sound begins, soft at first, then louder.

“Artemis.”

I freeze.

“Artemis. Artemis. Artemis.”

The voices multiply, overlapping, growing louder and louder until it feels like they’re coming from everywhere at once.

They all feel familiar. Too familiar. Each one brushes against something deep inside me, stirring emotions I don’t fully understand.

But I can’t focus on them, they’re too much.

“Artemis. Artemis. Artemis!”

I clutch my head, squeezing my eyes shut as the voices grow deafening, pounding in my skull like a drumbeat.

“STOP!” I scream, my voice breaking, but the voices don’t stop.

They swirl around me, relentless, overwhelming, pulling me deeper into the void.

“Artemis. Artemis. Artemis.”

Each one feels like it’s reaching for me, grabbing hold of something I can’t name, something I didn’t even know was missing.

And then—

Silence.

I open my eyes, my chest heaving, the void somehow darker than before.

And then, faintly, I hear one voice. Steady, calm.

“Artemis… remember.”

I blink, and suddenly I’m back in the museum.

The voices are gone, the void is gone, and I’m walking behind Ethan as he leads the way out of the sculpture room. The normal hum of the museum is back, the distant chatter of visitors, the faint hum of the air conditioning, the soft squeak of Ethan’s sneakers on the polished floor.

It’s like nothing happened.

I glance over my shoulder at the statue room, half expecting to see the Watcher moving again, but it’s just as I left it, silent, still, and unnervingly ordinary.

“Hey, you okay?” Ethan’s voice cuts into my thoughts, and I turn back to see him watching me with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” I say quickly, though my voice wavers. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

I manage a weak smile. “Just… not a fan of that room, I guess.”

“Fair enough,” he says, shrugging. “The sculpture stuff is kinda creepy.”

He keeps walking, but I hesitate, glancing back one more time.

The Watcher. The voices. The void.

And that last whisper. ‘Artemis… remember.’

What am I supposed to remember?

I quickly pull out the journal, scribbling down everything I heard and saw, the voices, the void, the Watcher. My hand shakes slightly as I write, but I force myself to get it all down before it starts to slip away.

“Look, Artemis!” Ethan calls out, his voice pulling me from my thoughts.

I glance up, shoving the journal back into my bag. “I’m looking. What is it?”

Ethan is standing in front of a massive display case, pointing excitedly at a sword mounted inside. Its blade is long and sleek, with intricate carvings etched along its surface that seem to shimmer faintly under the lights. The hilt is ornate, wrapped in dark leather with a gemstone embedded in the pommel.

“Isn’t this awesome?” Ethan says, his eyes practically sparkling. “It’s called The Blade of Eternal Shadows.”

I step closer, my gaze fixed on the sword. The name sends a shiver down my spine, and for a moment, I feel like I can almost hear a faint hum, like the blade is alive somehow.

“It’s… something,” I say quietly, the unease from before creeping back in.

Ethan grins. “Come on, you can’t tell me that’s not cool. I mean, just imagine wielding that in battle. You’d look like a total badass.”

I force a small smile, but my focus stays on the blade. The carvings… there’s something about them, something that feels familiar, though I can’t place why.

The hum grows louder in my head, almost like a whisper. “Artemis…”

I flinch, taking a step back.

“Whoa, you okay?” Ethan asks, noticing my reaction.

“Yeah,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “I’m fine. Just… got a little dizzy for a second.”

Ethan frowns but doesn’t press. “Alright, maybe we should grab lunch after this. You probably just need to eat something.”

I nod absently, my eyes lingering on the sword one last time before I turn away. Why does everything in this place feel like it’s trying to tell me something?

End of chapter 3

This story was written prior (without full editing) to the project toxin story when I wrote that I did not remember using the same name for a character here I’m going to let it be the same name just cause I don’t want to change it.


Source URL:https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/107156/eidolon-nexus-echoes-memory