I think I woke something in my blood—and now it won’t sleep.
They say trauma is just data here in Caereth—measured, scrubbed, inherited like eye color. But I saw my father beg for mercy in a memory I never lived.
One glitch in the cleanse, and my skin started burning with symbols no scanner could read. My mother’s voice bled through static—along with visions of a twin I never knew existed.
A boy with my scream in his throat. A map sealed in our DNA.
I followed it past the limits of what we’re allowed to feel. Past the dome. Into the place they swore was myth.
Now I don’t just remember my ancestors. I become them.
Their rage floods my mouth. Their grief boils under my skin. Their power—wild, raw, ancient—is waking inside me.
And if I let it out, I might burn the code that made me.