Chapter 4

Marcus nodded. "Those who believe humanity should evolve naturally, not through genetic manipulation and control. They've been watching the preservation program for generations, waiting for the right moment."

Costa's grip tightened on my hand. "And you're part of it?"

"My grandmother was awakened and reset six times before her pod finally failed," Marcus said quietly. "I grew up watching echowisps dancing around her grave, whispering fragments of her refusals."

The pieces clicked into place. "That's why you can see them too," I said. "The echowisps. They're connected to those who the memory wipes have manipulated."

Dr. Thorne lunged for the wall panel, but Costa was faster despite his weakened state. He grabbed a medical instrument from a nearby tray and jammed it into the communications port.

"I wouldn't," Costa said calmly as sparks erupted from the panel. "Now, we're going to walk out of here. All of us. Anyone who wants to stay can stay, but no alarms, no warnings."

The elderly woman's face contorted with fury. "You'll doom us all. The whole world has been awaiting the heir to the throne to return to his people, alongside his queen.”

A memory returned from my father, after he found out about Costa, ‘Shantali, you're meant to be going with me to that business meeting tomorrow to meet the man that I have signed an agreement with his father for your businesses to become one through your marriage.’ The memory made my head hurt, making my hands fly up to hold it.

Costa was at my side instantly, his hands replacing mine against my temples. "What is it?"

"Another memory," I gasped. "My father... he had arranged a marriage for me, too. A business merger." The pain intensified as more fragments surfaced. "The night I met you, I was supposed to be at home, preparing to meet my intended husband the next day."

Dr. Thorne's eyes widened with sudden understanding. "The double betrothal," he breathed. "Of course. Two families, two business empires, both with children promised elsewhere."

"We were both running away," I whispered, looking up at Costa. "Both of us escaping arranged marriages on the same night."

Marcus stepped closer, his voice urgent. "Which means the genetic matching wasn't a coincidence—it was deliberate. The Council didn't just preserve you because you fell in love. They preserved you because your original matches were already selected for the program."

The elderly woman's composure cracked entirely. "The Hartwell and Blackthorne lines were deemed essential for reconstruction. When both heirs chose... poorly... the Council saw an opportunity."

"Poorly?" Costa's voice was deadly quiet.

"You were meant to strengthen political alliances," she continued desperately. "Instead, you chose a factory worker's daughter, and she chose a prince. The scandal nearly toppled both family empires during the final days before the Collapse."

I felt the room spinning as more memories crashed through the barriers in my mind. "Lady Cordelia," I said suddenly. "She wasn't your original betrothed, was she? She was mine."

Dr. Thorne nodded reluctantly. "Lord Blackthorne's son, Adrian, was to marry you, Miss Jackson, cementing your father's industrial contracts. Prince Costa was promised to Lady Cordelia Hartwell."

"So when we chose each other," Costa said slowly, "we destroyed four separate bloodline preservation plans."

"And they've been trying to force it back on track for six centuries," Marcus added grimly.

The echowisps I'd seen earlier suddenly made perfect sense—they weren't just our repeated memories, but the psychic echoes of Cordelia and Adrian, of our families, of everyone whose lives had been shattered by the Council's obsession with genetic control.

"Where are they now?" I asked. "Adrian and Cordelia?"

The silence that followed told me everything I needed to know.

"Adrian refused to enter stasis," Dr. Thorne said quietly. "He chose to face the Collapse naturally. As for Lady Cordelia..."

"Her pod didn't malfunction," Marcus finished, his voice heavy with disgust. "She was terminated when it became clear she would never comply with the breeding protocols. After her seventh awakening, she threatened to expose the entire program."

The medical bay fell deathly silent. Costa's hand trembled in mine, but I couldn't tell whether from rage or weakness.

"You murdered her," I whispered.

"The Council made a difficult decision—"

"You murdered her because she wouldn't be your broodmare," Costa snarled, taking a step toward Dr. Thorne. "How many others? How many people have you killed in the name of your genetic purity?"

The elderly woman backed toward the wall. "The greater good sometimes requires—"

"Stop saying that!" I shouted, surprised by the strength in my voice. "There is no greater good that justifies centuries of imprisonment and murder!"

Marcus moved to the door, pressing his ear against it. "We need to leave. Now. The shift change happens in ten minutes, and Dr. Thorne's failed communication will be noticed."

"The service tunnels," he continued, pulling a small device from his pocket. "I can guide you to the resistance safe house, but we have to move before they realise you're both mobile."

Costa helped me to my feet, his arm steady around my waist. "Can you walk?"

"I'll crawl if I have to," I replied, meeting his eyes. "I'm not spending another century in a box."

As we moved toward the door, the air around us began to shimmer. Pale blue and amber lights materialised—dozens of them, floating like tiny stars throughout the medical bay.

"The echowisps," Marcus breathed. "I've never seen so many."

The whispers began then, fragments of voices layering over each other in a ghostly chorus:

"Please, I just want to go home..."

"My name is Cordelia Hartwell, and I refuse..."

"Adrian, if you can hear this..."

"We won't be your experiments..."

Dr. Thorne stumbled backward, his face pale with terror. "They're not supposed to manifest this strongly. The psychic resonance is off the charts."

"They're helping us," I realised. "All the people you've destroyed—they're showing us the way out."

The echowisps began to move, streaming toward the door in rivers of light. Marcus grabbed my free hand.

"Follow them," he said. "They know this place better than anyone."