Fractured Recall

Darkness pressed against Wrex’s mind like an unrelenting tide. His consciousness wavered, caught between waking and dreaming as the TSM vehicle rumbled beneath him. His body was weak, his mind sluggish, yet something clawed its way to the surface—a fragment of memory long buried.

A sterile white room. Rows of children seated in silence. Doctors in pristine coats moving between them, their hands gloved, their expressions unreadable. Wrex was there, smaller, younger, his heart pounding in his chest. The air smelled of antiseptic, cold and sharp, like metal left too long in the rain.

Then came the doctor. A man whose face was blurred by the passage of time, yet his presence was undeniable. He approached Wrex with slow, measured steps. The child inside Wrex tensed, sensing something beyond comprehension. Then, just as the doctor leaned in, just as his lips parted to speak—

The memory fractured. A sharp pain ran through Wrex’s skull, forcing him back into the present. But one thing remained, an echo of words whispered in a voice he did not recognize:

"Those who seek you will retain that which is yours."

His eyes snapped open, breath ragged, chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm. The dim interior of the transport vehicle swayed around him. The Normalist members sat across from him, their expressions unreadable, yet one figure stood out—Rizor.

Wrex’s old friend, the man he had trusted, the man who now seemed like a stranger.

"You're awake," Rizor said, a small smirk on his face, but his tone was devoid of warmth.

Wrex's mind was still reeling, but he forced himself to sit up. "Where are we?"

"On the way to Maconia," Rizor replied. "The land of the True Residents, the people who have been waiting for you."

Wrex clenched his fists. His head still ached from whatever weapon they had used on him, but the memory gnawed at his mind, refusing to fade. "And what exactly do they want from me?"

Rizor chuckled, but it was cold, almost detached. "You're asking the wrong question. The real question is—what do you want from them?"

Before Wrex could respond, the vehicle suddenly jolted, and through the reinforced glass, a towering structure loomed in the distance.

The Wall of Lions.

Massive, ancient, yet untouched by time. It was said to be impenetrable, an unyielding fortress separating the so-called "perfect" world of Facilis from whatever lay beyond. And now, Wrex was being taken there, to a place no one from his side of the world had ever seen.

But deep in his gut, he felt it—this was only the beginning.

Back in the towns, chaos was quickly taking root. People scrambled, unsure of how to navigate a reality where the so-called perfect technology—the Point Touch Zero—had failed. The device, meant to maintain harmony, peace, and control, had been shattered, a monumental event for those who had once relied on it to ensure peace. It was believed that the Point Touch Zero was the backbone of their utopia, that it could never falter. Yet now, its fragility was exposed.

In the aftermath of the device’s destruction, tensions ran high. Some began to question the very world they had once believed was perfect. Was this society truly built on stability, or was it all a façade? Could there be something hidden beneath the surface, a truth waiting to be uncovered? People began to act, taking advantage of the crumbling order.

Among them, a group—one whose name was whispered but never spoken aloud—moved in the shadows. They were akin to the Royal Guards, figures who had once been known for their loyalty to the royal family, but now, their true purpose seemed far more sinister. They were no longer just protectors; they had become something more. These figures, once trusted by the people, now wielded weapons. Weapons.

It was shocking. In a society where violence and crime were strictly prohibited, the sight of these objects was almost unheard of. To possess a weapon was to be condemned, but these guards moved with a confidence that spoke of something far greater than mere disobedience. It was clear: they had access to tools far beyond anything anyone had imagined—tools that were hidden from the public eye, tools that could change the course of history. The agenda behind these weapons remained unclear, but the truth was there—silent and hidden.

For the first time, the royal family, long seen as the benevolent rulers of a utopian society, was being questioned. Were they the true architects of this deception? Had the perfect world been built on a foundation of lies and manipulation? What was their true agenda? Was the royal family in control, or were they simply puppets in a far darker game?

Back in the vehicle, as they neared Maconia, Wrex’s thoughts were racing. What did Rizor know? What had he gotten himself involved in? And why had the True Residents been waiting for him?

The vehicle’s rumbling continued as Rizor’s voice broke through Wrex’s spiraling thoughts.

"They’re waiting for you because they know your value," Rizor said. "You are the key to everything. Not just for us, but for the future of this world. They want you to unlock the past."

Wrex shook his head. "I don’t understand. You talk about unlocking the past, but I barely even know what’s real anymore. You keep saying that the Truth is waiting for me, but you don’t give me answers."

Rizor met his gaze with something close to pity. "You’ll understand soon enough. Everything we’ve done, everything we’ve fought for, will come to light. You’ll see the world for what it truly is, Wrex. And when that happens, you’ll have to make a choice. Stand with us, or stand against us."

Wrex's fists tightened, frustration bubbling up. "But why? Why is it all so secret? Why the games?"

"Because not everyone can handle the truth," Rizor replied softly. "And the truth isn’t just something you’ll want to know—it’s something you have to know."

As the wall of Maconia grew larger in the distance, Wrex’s heart pounded. The silence inside the vehicle seemed to stretch, thick with unspoken words. He wasn’t ready. Not yet. But the truth was coming, whether he was ready or not.

And somewhere, deep inside him, he knew that the pieces of the puzzle were finally beginning to fall into place. The people, the weapons, the royal family, the memories. They were all connected, and soon, he would be forced to face the full picture.

But for now, there was one thing Wrex knew for certain: this world was not what it appeared to be.

Meanwhile...

Loria sat alone in the dimly lit room, the woman who had saved her nowhere in sight. Her thoughts were a whirlwind. What had she been told?

Everything she thought she knew, everything she had been trained to believe, was being questioned now. The systems, the hierarchy, the way the world functioned—all of it had been a lie. Her upbringing, the teachings of the system that she had once considered so righteous, were nothing but a tool to keep her ignorant.

She clenched her fists, her mind racing. How had she been so blind?

And then, the words came, softly, almost a whisper:

“The royal family isn’t what you think.”

Loria’s eyes widened. The truth, the one she had always dismissed as conspiracy or rebellion, was now standing right before her. The real question now was: What would she do with that knowledge?

Would she continue to follow the system, or would she stand beside Wrex?

There was no turning back.