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Chapter Forty-One: Orion
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2026-08-06 00:20:09The name echoed through the cavern.
"Orion."
Ronan's body trembled beneath my hands.
Blood continued to drip from his nose onto the stone floor, each crimson drop disappearing into grooves carved into the ancient rock.
"Ronan."
He didn't answer.
His breathing had become uneven.
His eyes remained fixed on the old photograph lying inside the legacy box.
"They called you..." he whispered again.
"...Orion."
Dr. Dawson's face drained of color.
Mr. Rowan stared at Ronan in stunned silence.
Only Daniel's absence kept the room from feeling complete.
I tightened my grip on Ronan's shoulder.
"Look at me."
His unfocused eyes slowly found mine.
"Who called me Orion?"
He swallowed hard.
"I..."
Another wave of pain crossed his face.
"I don't know."
He shut his eyes tightly.
"I can hear voices."
"What voices?"
"Children."
His fingers dug into the edge of the stone table.
"They're laughing."
His breathing quickened.
"Then someone is crying."
A long silence followed.
"I remember rain."
The cavern was so quiet that every word seemed to echo twice.
"I remember running."
His voice cracked.
"And..."
He suddenly froze.
"No."
"What is it?"
"No..."
His expression shifted from confusion to horror.
"There was another boy."
I frowned.
"Who?"
"I can't see his face."
His breathing became ragged again.
"But..."
He looked directly at me.
"...he wasn't supposed to survive."
The words settled over the cavern like ice.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know."
His hands trembled violently.
"I just remember someone shouting..."
His voice became strangely distant.
"Protect Orion!"
Another flash of memory struck him.
He doubled over.
I caught him before he fell.
"Easy."
"It hurts."
"I know."
"No."
He looked at me desperately.
"You don't."
His voice broke.
"It feels like someone's tearing pieces out of my head."
Dr. Dawson stepped forward.
"That's enough."
I looked up sharply.
"What?"
"Stop asking."
"He remembers."
"And every memory is causing neurological stress."
The old scientist knelt beside Ronan.
"This is exactly why memory suppression was considered dangerous."
My pulse slowed.
"Suppression?"
The word hung in the air.
Dawson realized too late what he'd said.
"You erased our memories."
His silence answered before his voice did.
"We..."
"No."
I stepped between him and Ronan.
"You don't get to hide behind half-truths anymore."
The old man's shoulders slumped.
"I never wanted this."
"But you did it."
He closed his eyes.
"Yes."
The admission struck harder than any lie.
"You erased our childhood."
"I believed it would save your lives."
"Whose idea was it?"
His lips parted.
Then closed again.
"I can't."
"You can."
"I gave my word."
Anger surged through me.
"My entire life has been built on other people's promises."
I took one step closer.
"I'm done paying for them."
Before Dawson could answer, Mr. Rowan quietly spoke.
"It wasn't his decision."
Everyone turned toward him.
"What?"
"It required four signatures."
Ronan slowly looked up despite the pain.
"Four?"
Rowan nodded.
"The Genesis Charter prohibited altering a child's memories unless every founder agreed."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"My father..."
"...signed it."
The words barely left my mouth.
Dawson nodded once.
"So did Victor Ashcroft."
Ronan closed his eyes.
"My father too."
Neither of us spoke.
For years, we'd blamed strangers for our lies.
Now we knew the people who loved us most had helped create them.
The realization hurt more than betrayal.
Because it meant they had believed there was no other way.
Marcus's voice suddenly crackled through the emergency radio clipped to Inspector Voss's abandoned equipment.
"Adrian!"
The signal was weak.
Broken.
But unmistakably Marcus.
I lunged for the radio.
"Marcus!"
Static.
Then—
"I found Daniel."
Relief flooded through me.
"Is he alive?"
A long pause.
"Barely."
I closed my eyes.
Thank God.
Marcus continued between bursts of interference.
"We're trapped on Forty-Six."
"What happened?"
"They've sealed the floor."
Gunfire echoed faintly behind his voice.
"We can't hold much longer."
The signal almost disappeared.
Then one final sentence forced my eyes open.
"They're looking for something."
I frowned.
"What?"
Marcus answered with obvious confusion.
"They keep asking where..."
Static.
"...the Orion File is."
The transmission died.
No one moved.
No one even breathed.
Slowly...
Very slowly...
I looked down at the leather journal inside my father's legacy box.
Until now, I had assumed Orion was only a childhood nickname.
Now...
It sounded like something else.
Not a name.
A file.
A project.
Or a secret someone was still willing to kill for.
At that exact moment, the silver pocket watch inside the box began to tick.
Once.
Twice.
Then the stopped hands, frozen at 11:47 for decades...
Started moving again.
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