Chapter 96 The price of remembering
Chapter 96 The price of remembering
Chapter 96: The Price of Remembering
Audrey felt it first. The pressure in her chest, the way her breath slowed without her permission. Her wheelchair rolled over the uneven earth with a faint crunch, Willa’s hands steady behind her, but even Willa had gone quiet.
“You feel it too,” Audrey whispered.
Willa nodded, eyes fixed ahead. “She’s coming.”
The Keeper did not announce herself. She never did anymore. She simply appeared, standing where there had been nothing moments before, dressed in the same vintage silhouette she always wore. High-collared blouse. Long skirt. Hair pinned back. Not a strand out of place, as though time itself dared not touch her.
Her eyes moved first, sweeping over Audrey, then Willa. Then past them.
“Be silent,” the Keeper said calmly.
Audrey’s lips pressed together. Willa obeyed instantly. Behind them, footsteps sounded. Slow. Dragging.
Audrey frowned. “Do you hear that?”
The Keeper tilted her head. “You were told not to speak.”
Audrey swallowed. “Who’s coming?”
The Keeper didn’t answer.
A man emerged from between two old wooden structures that looked like barns from another century. His clothes were torn. His face was bruised. One of his shoes was missing. His hands were bound behind his back with thick rope. He looked… wrong. Not sick. Not injured. Hollow.
Willa’s breath hitched. “That’s…”
“Quiet,” the Keeper said, without raising her voice.
The man was pushed forward by two guards dressed in clothes that belonged to another era entirely…wide trousers, suspenders, flat caps pulled low. Their faces were expressionless.
“Who is he?” Audrey asked anyway.
The Keeper turned slowly. “Someone who refused to accept where he is.”
The man’s head lifted at that.
“She lies,” he croaked. His voice sounded like rust scraping metal. “She lies to all of you.”
One of the guards struck him behind the knees. He fell hard to the ground.
Willa flinched. Audrey didn’t look away.
The Keeper sighed softly. “You were warned. Many times.”
The man laughed a broken, desperate sound. “I remember my daughter. You said I wouldn’t. You said I’d forget.”
“You will,” the Keeper replied. “Eventually.”
She turned to Audrey and Willa. “This is what resistance looks like.”
Audrey’s fingers curled in her lap. “You’re making an example of him.”
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t the deal,” Audrey said.
The Keeper raised a brow. “What deal?”
“You said coexistence,” Audrey replied. “You said adaptation. You never said public punishment.”
The Keeper smiled faintly. “I don’t explain consequences before they are needed.”
The man coughed violently. “Audrey,” he rasped.
Willa stiffened. “How does he know your name?”
Audrey’s heart dropped. “How do you know my name?”
The man looked at her with bloodshot eyes. “You came through the ground. Same way I did.”
The Keeper’s smile vanished.
“Enough,” she said. She lifted one hand.
The guards dragged the man upright again.
“No,” Willa whispered. “Please.”
The Keeper ignored her.
“You remember too much,” the Keeper said to the man. “That is the cost.”
“I just want to go home,” he sobbed. “I don’t belong here.”
“You all belong where you land,” the Keeper replied. “That is the rule.”
Audrey leaned forward in her wheelchair. “What are you going to do to him?”
The Keeper finally looked at her. “I am going to let time finish its work.”
She snapped her fingers. The world… shifted. Not visually. Not physically.
Audrey felt it inside her skull, a sudden, disorienting pull, like memories being yanked through a narrow door.
The man screamed. Not in pain. In loss.
“My daughter…” he cried. “Her face…I can’t…”
He clawed at his head. His body convulsed. The scream broke into sobs, then silence. When his eyes lifted again, they were empty. Completely empty.
“Take him,” the Keeper said.
The guards loosened the ropes and guided the man away. He walked willingly now. Without resistance. Without memory.
Willa covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face.
Audrey felt cold all over.
“That’s what happens,” the Keeper said calmly, “when you try to escape what you are meant to become here.”
Audrey’s voice shook. “You erased him.”
“No,” the Keeper corrected. “I erased what did not belong.”
She turned to Audrey fully now. “You are still fighting.”
Audrey met her gaze. “Because I know this isn’t natural.”
The Keeper studied her for a long moment. “You’re wrong.”
“Then why punish him?” Audrey demanded. “Why not let him forget quietly?”
“Because others were listening,” the Keeper replied. “Including you.”
Silence fell.
Willa whispered, barely audible, “Is this what happened to you?”
The Keeper’s eyes flickered. Just once. Then hardened.
“I survived,” she said. “He didn’t adapt.”
She stepped closer to Audrey, looming over her wheelchair. “And neither will you, if you continue this way.”
Audrey lifted her chin. “You don’t scare me.”
The Keeper smiled again. “You should be terrified.”
She turned away. “You are free to choose your place. Seamstress. Farmer. Apothecary. Washerwoman. This world has room for usefulness.”
Willa swallowed. “And if we don’t choose?”
The Keeper paused. “Time will choose for you.” She began to walk away.
“Wait,” Audrey said.
The Keeper stopped but didn’t turn.
“You said no one goes back,” Audrey said slowly. “But you also said you came in the same way.”
The Keeper glanced over her shoulder. “Curiosity is dangerous.”
“So is fear,” Audrey replied.
The Keeper faced her fully now. “Careful.”
Audrey held her gaze. “You’re afraid too.”
For the first time, the Keeper said nothing. Then she left. The air lightened slightly, but the damage lingered.
Willa collapsed beside Audrey, shaking. “She erased him. Just like that.”
Audrey stared at the ground where the man had fallen. “No. She erased his reason.”
Willa looked up. “What does that mean?”
“It means memory is currency here,” Audrey whispered. “And she controls the bank.”
Willa nodded slowly. “Then we have to protect ours.”
Audrey’s jaw tightened. “And find a way to leave before she decides we remember too much.”
Willa reached for Audrey’s hand. “We will.”
Audrey squeezed back, eyes hard with resolve.
“She thinks this broke us,” Audrey murmured. “She’s wrong.”
They sat there in silence, the echoes of the man’s scream still clinging to the air, knowing one thing for certain—they had to leave.