Glass memory

They say the old maps are cursed. That they remember a world no longer true, leading anyone who trusts them straight into ruin. But we don't have much choice anymore.

Aerith lays the device on a flat slab of stone. The top projects a faint green lattice, expanding into an incomplete 3D terrain map. A few lines flicker. Roads. Elevation contours. No names.

"Most of the landmarks are gone," he says. "But the terrain's still loyal. This ridge leads to a tower I used once. Water system's underground. Intact."

Maika crosses her arms. "Used? Or broke into?"

Aerith doesn't answer. Just gestures.

The others look to me.

"We move," I say. "At least until we find something safer."

He tucks the device back into his coat and leads.

I don't miss the way Maika glares at me.

By midday, the sun is too close and the shade too rare. The path climbs steadily, flanked by overgrowth and scrap. My mind won't quiet. Every step forward feels like I'm dragging a version of myself that doesn't know what she's doing.

Maika's voice cuts through the heat. "So we're just following strangers now?"

"Not strangers," I say, not turning around.

"Right. Just mysterious men with working tech and no last name."

"He saved us."

"One moldy food packet doesn't make him a hero."

I stop. Turn.

"What do you want me to say, Maika? That I trust him? Because I don't. But I trust that he knows more than we do. That's enough."

She narrows her eyes. "No. You want him to be right because you want to stop feeling crazy."

I go quiet.

She steps closer. "You're tired of being the only one who believes in something. So the second someone else shows up and validates you, you chase it."

"I'm not chasing him," I say.

"You're building your hope on him."

Her voice doesn't rise. But it doesn't have to.

Behind me, no one speaks.

I turn and keep walking. Aerith doesn't look back.

The tower looms above us by sunset. Twisted metal bones, half-collapsed glass, wires like vines. It's built into a ridge, roots from nearby trees clawing its upper levels.

"This is it," Aerith says.

The entry door has rusted open. Inside, it's quiet. Cold. Still.

A water tank near the back. Sealed. Dusty.

He moves quickly, kneeling beside a broken console.

"I rerouted the filtration before the systems collapsed. Should still be potable."

"Should," Ajay repeats.

I check the tank. Smell it. Clear. Cold. No algae.

"Collect bottles," I say.

We work fast. The light is dying.

Then Ajay calls out. "There's something here."

We gather around a cracked bench near the wall.

A body. Skeletal. Dressed in a tattered robe. On the floor beside it: a symbol carved into the tile. Three interlocked circles.

"Memory cult," Venu says quietly. "Whisperer followers."

Maika steps back. "He led us here?"

Aerith's face doesn't change.

"Did you know?" Maika demands.

"No," he says. "I haven't been here since before they formed."

"But you knew this place meant something," she fires back.

Aerith kneels beside the body. "I knew it was safe. That's all that mattered."

Sira looks to me. "Kaia?"

I hesitate. My chest's too tight. My hands are cold.

"We stay tonight," I say.

I don't meet Maika's eyes.

That night, I sit outside the tower on a slab of rock, watching the wind pull at the trees. The stars feel too close. Like they're leaning in to listen.

Aerith appears beside me without a sound.

"I didn't mean to divide your group," he says.

"You didn't. They're already divided. I just didn't want to see it."

He sits.

"For what it's worth," he says, "I've seen people follow all kinds of things. Maps. Stories. Dreams. You're not wrong to want to believe something."

"I don't know what I believe anymore."

He nods. "Good. That means you're not stuck."

I turn to him. "You know more than you're saying."

"I do."

"Why keep us close?"

He doesn't answer right away. Then:

"Because if I do this alone, I become the villain they think I am."

"And with us?"

"Maybe I don't."

He stands, leaving me in silence.

I stare up at the sky. At stars too still to be real.

And wonder if I've already stepped too far into something I can't pull back from.