Trace Memories Novels & Stories

Because this feels a lot like one. "It's... complicated," I finally tell him. His face drains of color. To him, yesterday we were still together. I was still his. Marcellus Gregory was dead and buried. A muscle jumps in his jaw. "Nora." The way he says my name unsettles me. He probably thinks this is some cruel joke. The doctor clears her throat. "Mr. Griffin's memories appear to be anchored to an earlier period. The trauma has preserved older recollections while blocking access to more recent events."

His eyes were wide, darting with a frantic, rhythmic movement that was entirely mechanical, searching for connections in the empty air. ​"It’s not just data, Clara," he whispered, his voice trembling. "It’s memories. Vivid, sensory experiences. I remember the smell of ozone in the laboratory where the first integration tests took place—a place that doesn't exist on any map I know. I remember the sound of the founder’s voice, a man who died cycles before I was born. I’m seeing the world through their eyes, overlaid on top of my own vision. Every tree, every rock, every shadow has a file path attached to it."

"I don't know what that means." "Triggers are when something that's happening now, or a smell, or a taste, or a sensation that takes you back to a scary time in your life. The flashback or memory," Tag explained. "I still have a few. Even though I've been out of the military for a while now. There's no shame in them, sweetcheeks. None at all."

“Host, they owe you a debt. It is time they paid it back.” Then its body slowly turned transparent. “Memory extraction complete. “Memory Broadcast Protocol activated.” Before I could tighten my fingers around its tiny paw, the last of its energy burned out. It dissolved into a wisp of pale smoke and vanished without a trace. With everything it had left, the System began broadcasting my memories. The screen in the morgue went black. When it lit up again, it was playing a memory from the year I turned ten. Back then, I had been hiding behind a door.

PROTOCOL OVERRIDE DETECTED LOCATION: CITY SECTOR 04 USER: AURORA Movement halted unexpectedly. EMOTIONAL STATUS REPORT HEART RATE +19% COGNITIVE PRESSURE DETECTED A sensation moved through her consciousness. Not pain. Recognition. Something brushed against memory architecture. A name. Nearly visible. Nearly accessible. Then gone. MEMORY ACCESS FAILURE TARGET FILE NOT FOUND Aurora turned slowly. Because this did not feel like a recall. It felt like insertion. Like something forgotten had been quietly returned to active systems. Waiting. Observing. Measuring. Waiting to determine who would notice first.

And closed it with a sigh. “Did you not want to read anything?” Tristan asked me puzzled. I smiled at him, feeling my lip crack a little as I did “I did.” I saw the confusion on his face and giggled “I have a photographic memory. I can recall information at any time just by looking at it. Kind of like pulling out a photograph to look at whenever you want to. I retain facts and conversations and recall them easily.” His mouth formed an ‘O’ as he processed the information.

I may have to help him remember. The thought landed heavy and cold, because I’d spent two months actively steering him away from exactly that outcome, terrified of what would come back with it. But sitting there in that hallway, running through every version of the next two days, I couldn’t find a single path forward that didn’t require Felix to know something he currently had no access to at all. I went to find Marcus. “I need everything on cognitive triggers,” I said, closing the office door behind me. “Retrograde amnesia. What actually brings memories back. Fast, if there’s a fast version.”

"Look at the reflection, baby! Remember who you are!" The intellectual twist, however, revealed its final, cruel layer. As I poured my memories into the machine, I felt the "Amnesia Protocol" I had discovered earlier begin to trigger. The lab was designed to be a closed loop. To broadcast the memory into the child, it had to be extracted from the donor.

The shadows clawing at her mind began to twist and waver, cracking under the weight of their united will as the remnants of distorted memories flickered like dying embers in the darkness. “Focus on what you know is real!” Amelia urged, the strength in her voice resonating through their mental connection as she battled the onslaught of lies. The shards of true memories surfaced—moments shared with Gabriel and Lucas now gleamed like treasures amidst the murky fog that attempted to drown her.

Doctor Mirabel cleared her throat and said, "Her psychiatric examination has shown positive progress. And with the cessation of static electricity, it indicates that she has successfully dealt with trauma. That's a good development. Although her memories of the past haven't fully returned." "Just a moment, Doctor. What do you mean by 'haven't fully returned'?" Ares asked. "Ah, yes. Here's the thing, Mr. Ares. Miss Yara mentioned that she glimpsed fragments related to her past in her mind. She said she had seen snippets of a man kissing her and glimpses of places that she claims are not in Spain. She feels they might be locations in another country. Something like that. So, from Miss Yara's a