Elara moves quietly between the aisles, her silhouette dwarfed by the towering shelves. Her fingers brush against the glass, feeling the warmth of the memories within, each labeled with names and dates—a catalog of sorrow and secrets. She pauses at her desk, eyes lingering on a half-filled ledger, the ink smudged by her tired hands.
Elara bends to retrieve a fallen crate, her gaze snagging on a vial wedged behind a shelf. Unlike the others, it is blank—no label, no record. Its glow is softer, almost golden, and it pulses in her palm as if alive. Curiosity wrestles with caution in her chest.
"Why would someone leave this unlabeled?"
The rules forbid viewing an Echo without proper documentation, but the vial seems to call to her. Elara hesitates, heart thudding, before finally uncorking it. The room is flooded with a vision—colors and sounds swirl, drawing her into a memory that isn't her own, or so she believes.
Elara gasps as realization dawns. She watches herself in the background, feeling a cold spike of fear. How could she have forgotten this place, this moment? Who chose to erase her memory, and why? The vial trembles in her hand, its light mingling with the storm’s flashes.
"If I put this back, maybe nothing changes. But what if there’s more I’m meant to know?" The thought of someone tampering with her mind frightens Elara, yet the mystery beckons. The choice before her is more than forbidden—it's transformative.
Elara closes the door behind her, leaving the blue-lit silence for the unknown. The golden vial pulses against her heart, guiding her toward the secret door in the center of town and the answers hidden in her own forgotten past.
