Eidolon Nexus: Echoes of Memory Chapter 3 A “Break”

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.

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...

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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.