Gaia Memory Novels & Stories

Then said it: “You were part of the Echo program too.” Her breath stilled. “No—” “Your genome wasn’t just altered to survive pregnancy. It was altered to imprint. You weren’t supposed to carry the child. You were supposed to carry memory. Genetic memory. Just like Eva. Just like the others.” She rose on shaking legs and stared at the tall glass window across the room. Her own reflection peered back—pale, unkempt, fractured by a jagged hairline crack that ran diagonally through the glass like a surgical scar. Her lips moved before she realized the words were hers:

Like the land no longer cared. Like the gods themselves were watching silently while the pack turned their eyes toward the past. The evil. Gaia. The woman who starved our kingdom with her pretty smiles and false harvests. They remembered her rivers. Her crops. They don't remember the deaths she caused. Not the Luna she almost left to rot underground. Not my mate. I clenched my jaw as I stepped out of that room. The torch of purple flame still burned in my hand, casting shadows against the stone corridor as I ascended.