The ship drifted through silent corridors of folded space, its engines humming in low-power stealth mode.
Inside, the medical bay lights were dim.
Historia lay strapped into a stabilization cradle, her body still wrapped in adaptive supports. Repair systems had done what they could, but the damage of centuries could not be erased in hours.
Mira sat beside her, pretending to monitor diagnostics.
In truth, she was watching Historia’s face.
Watching every flicker of confusion.
Every tightening of pain.
Every time her eyes lost focus, as if chasing something that wasn’t there.
“…I keep seeing flashes,” Historia murmured.
Mira stiffened slightly. “Flashes?”
“Metal… fire… something collapsing…”
Her brows furrowed. “But when I try to remember, it’s like… static.”
She lifted her hand weakly, fingers curling in frustration.
“It feels like I dropped part of myself somewhere.”
Mira’s voice stayed gentle. Too gentle.
“Your memory cores were badly damaged. It’s normal.”
Historia turned her head, studying her sister’s face.
“…you’re lying.”
Mira froze.
Historia’s voice wasn’t angry.
Just tired.
“You always do that small pause before you lie.”
Mira forced a laugh. “You’re imagining things.”
Historia didn’t answer.
But the doubt remained, quietly settling between them.
Later, when Historia finally slept, Mira activated the diagnostic overlay she had been avoiding.
Memory integrity: 31%
Emotional event clusters: fragmented
Final battlefield records: corrupted but recoverable
Recoverable.
Mira’s breath hitched.
If those files restored themselves…
Historia would remember everything.
The retreat order.
The incoming Schryzan forces.
And Mira turning away.
“I didn’t abandon you,” Mira whispered to the silent bay.
“I saved you… I saved you by surviving…”
But guilt does not care about logic.
Only about what was lost.
Historia woke screaming.
AAAAAAHHHH!
Mira was at her side instantly.
“Historia! It’s okay— it’s okay, you’re safe—!”
But Historia’s eyes were wide, unfocused, her body trembling as if still trapped in the battlefield.
“They were coming—! I couldn’t move— Mira, I couldn’t—!”
She gasped, gripping Mira’s sleeves with surprising strength.
“I thought you were dead— I thought I was alone—!”
Mira pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her while tremors ran through her frame.
“You weren’t alone. You were never alone. I’m here. I’m here.”
But Historia’s shaking did not stop.
Not because of fear.
Because of memory.
[FILE: neural_cluster/reconstruction.log]
MEMORY FRAGMENT: ACTIVE
EVENT TYPE: BATTLEFIELD — FINAL STAND
DATA CORRUPTION: SEVERE
EMOTIONAL LOAD: EXTREME
RECOMMENDATION:
Delay full restoration to prevent psychological collapse.
When the panic finally faded, Historia lay exhausted, eyes dull with lingering terror.
“…Mira… did I… die…?”
Mira hesitated.
“…no.”
“…then why does it feel like I did?”
Mira had no answer.
Only silence.