Codewrights were the only runners who could dream. That's what they told us as children—like it was a comfort.We were the special ones.The others couldn't stitch memory into story. Couldn't see what we saw when the lights went out.They'd never had nightmares. Never known the kind of fear that creeps in when the mind goes idle.
I knew Rebel—and those eyes—would haunt mine tonight.
They led me into what was once Rebel and Priya's home. A shell now, soft with shadow. I helped her toward the bed, but she froze at the edge, like it might bite.
"He's still in this room," she whispered. "I feel him everywhere. And I can't reach him."
She crumpled to the floor. I knelt and pulled her gently into my arms. She leaned against me, so fragile—like a baby bird trembling in the wind.
"I don't even know your name, and I'm crying on you like a fool," she murmured, fists curling.
"Alis De Aura," I said softly. "But just call me Alis."
"Priya Ray," she replied, barely above a breath. "People just call me Priya."
I nodded. "How did you—"
"Become corrupted?" she finished for me, sagging. "I left the village for supplies. Rebel told me not to go alone, but I wanted to help. I slipped—on a root. The tree had turned to rot. It got into my skin. Just… like that."
Her body sank farther, as if it couldn't hold her anymore. She lay down, and I let her rest her head in my lap. I brushed her hair with my fingers. For a moment, I imagined it was Vivid lying there.
I found tangles and gently began to unknot them, a quiet tune rising to my lips. I hummed as she wept in silence, listening.
It felt like this had become my forever—caring for the lost ones.Vivid. Priya.Priya and Vivid.
When she finally spoke, it was as if a spell had broken.
"He tried everything to save me," she whispered. "If I'd known what the code would cost… I would've let it take me. He was supposed to survive. He was the strong one. The village needs him."
"He was the leader?" I asked, already knowing the answer. I'd seen it in their eyes when we arrived.
She nodded, slow and small. "Without him, the rot will creep back. The Rotcastors will come from the north. We'll lose what little we have left. It's my fault. I should've let myself die."
Her tears dripped steadily, glinting as they hit the floor. Mine joined hers—sorrow pooling like data overflow. I hadn't known Rebel long. But I'd seen the love he carried. Felt it.
I missed that kind of love. It had faded from my memories, gone murky in the time I'd been lost.
I took her hands, holding them tightly until she looked up.
"Rebel made a choice," I told her. "He did it because he loved you, Priya. Because you were worth saving."
She whimpered, but I kept going.
"You are worth saving. Honor him. Live—for both of you."
We sat in silence, eyes locked. A quiet battle. She blinked first.
"Why did he melt into code?" she rasped. "Why didn't he say goodbye?"
I shook my head. "Sometimes the world just takes," I said. "Even the best of us. Sometimes it doesn't make sense."
I thought of Vivid—the moment she slipped away—and looked down.
"I thought I was hallucinating," Priya said, distant. "But I'm still awake. I'm whole. And he's still gone."
"I know how it feels." My voice broke. "He rewrote reality for you. You meant everything to him."
She nodded faintly, as if under a spell again. "How did you meet him?"
I told her, "I was being hunted. A spider, bigger than a house. He came out of nowhere and cut it to pieces."
She didn't blink. Didn't flinch. "He always found the strays. That was his gift. We're all outsiders, here."
I thought of the apple he'd given me. His rough kindness. That was the real Rebel Ray—someone who had chosen to be good, even in a world that didn't reward it.
Then something shifted in her eyes. A sharp glint—desperation, maybe. Or resolve.
"Help us," she said suddenly.
She sat upright, clutching my arm.
"You're a Codewright too."
I hesitated. "I—yes. But I'm not him. I've never purified anything. I'm not ready—"
"You don't have to be," she said, grabbing my shoulders. Her voice turned sharp, urgent. "You're here. That's what matters. He brought you here. Don't you see? He meant for you to stay. It's destiny."
I thought of Hexa. Of the Elites. Of the target painted on my back.
But also—of how long I'd been running. Of how tired I was. Of Vivid.
I still had to find her. I had to know what happened before that thing got her.
Priya's grip tightened.
"We need a Codewright. You're our last one. We'll die without you."
Then she looked down.
And I saw it—a slight swell beneath her tunic. Her trembling hands resting on her belly.
My heart cracked open.
"Priya…" I whispered.
Tears streamed down her face again. "Rebel's child. And I'm alone now."
I closed my eyes and saw Vivid's face. Her hand slipping from mine. Her eyes locking with mine, just before she vanished.
And now—Priya. Still here. Still holding on. With a life inside her, a life that belonged to the one who'd saved mine.
My heart ached in two directions—one for her, and one for Vivid. My quest still unfinished.
But maybe I didn't have to choose.
Maybe I could do both. Hadn't I always?
"I'll stay," I said.
Priya pulled me close, clinging like someone afraid I'd vanish next.
"Thank you," she breathed. She took my hand and pressed it to her belly. I swore I felt something shift beneath the skin.
"If it's a boy… I'll name him Ryder. Rebel loved that name."
"Ryder Ray," I whispered. "Keep it. No matter what."
She stood, wavering, and gestured to the bed. "Please. Rest. You look half-dead."
The moment my head hit the pillow, the dream came.
But it wasn't memory. Not quite.
The unraveling began again—Rebel melting into code, his body flickering like a bad rendering, vanishing in digital light.The dark thing in the distance, watching. Waiting.The moment I bowed. And was spared.
I walked a path of raw code—lines fracturing, reforming under each step. Searching. Always searching.For Vivid. For a trace. For hope.
It was useless.
The dream rewound—again and again—to the moment I reached for her.Vivid.Her fingers brushing mine. Her eyes.
And then—The ghost girl in the cyberspace.Flickering. Watching.
Where are you, Vivid?
The dream gave no answer.
Only the dark.
I was startled awake by a voice. Sharp. Familiar.