A gray veil of dust, mixed with black ash, covered the horizon. The wind carried a dry, metallic scent, as if the very ruins of the city were bleeding rust.
Building after building, glass shells and reinforced concrete bones jutted from the ground like the discarded ribs of a dead beast.
Annalise walked behind Charon, Lyra, and two other escorts. Her fingers automatically felt the pulse of wax beneath her skin, as if it were moving with her. Here, on the southern edge of the world, every step was an echo of an ancient, catastrophic explosion. The system warned her:
[Warning: You are entering an area of high tech-activity.]
[Signals are unstable. Terminals of the past are fixed. Threat level: Variable.]
—Be careful. — Burmured Charon without turning around. — The city doesn't like strangers. It remembers that we are a mistake.
Annalise gulped. The ruins of the old technology center rose around her. Some of the buildings looked as if they were rooted in place—biomechanical vines fused with antennas and wires, pulsing with dim light.
—Hundreds of thousands of people once lived here. —Lyra said: — Before they tried to rewrite themselves.
—And it didn't work out? — Annalise tried to sound casual, but her voice trembled.
—It did work out. And then they disappeared.
Their target was one of the surviving laboratories, hidden deep within a ruined sector called "The Fangs." The name was fitting, as the glass skyscrapers, partially collapsed, jutted like broken teeth towards the sky.
They approached one of the towers. At the entrance, there was a broken hologram flashing green. The system symbols flashed:
[Project: Wax | Subsystem: Reserve 017 - Ego Reflection Cell]
Annalise froze. Those words... her system was reacting:
[ID match. Internal code initiation.]
[Do you want to synchronize with the residual record? Y/N]
— What is it? — She asked, putting her palm against the pulsing console.
— Residual memory. Charon replied. — Such dots sometimes... talk. But be careful. Sometimes the voice of the past can break even the most persistent.
Annalise looked at Lyra. She nodded.
She chose Y.
[SYNCHRONIZATION HAS BEGUN…]
…
"If you hear this, then I am dead… or reborn. My name… was Anna Lizbeth. I am the prototype."
A buzz in her ears. A pulse in her temples. Her body trembled as the image of a holographic woman—almost identical to her—spoke from the other side of time.
—…What the…? — She gasped.
"You are the product of the Humanity Restoration Project. White Wax is not a weapon. It is the glue between consciousness and matter. It will preserve your identity... if you can hold on to it.
The signal cut off. The tower shook.
[System failure. Memory corrupted. Partial synchronization.]
Annalise lowered her hand. Her eyes were burning. All she felt was a burning realization:
She is not just a survivor.
She is an experiment.
The stones beneath their feet began to vibrate. The building they were approaching groaned softly under the weight of time. As soon as the recording ended, the complex's internal systems began to awaken. Lyra turned around.
— We're not alone. Something has activated. Quickly, take cover!
They jumped behind a half-collapsed wall, where a rusty wire moved like a snake. A figure rose from the dusty space in front of them — a shiny hull, four legs, and sensors instead of eyes.
An old hunting drone.
A protocol was visible on its chassis:
[Sentinel Series: Human Target Elimination — Active]
Threat Level: 17
Charon cursed and pulled out an impulse spear, activating it. Lyra darted to the side. Annalise was left behind, her legs unresponsive.
The system flashed in her mind:
[Detected: residual aura of a techno-bio object]
White wax flowed over her body, like an instinct, like blood. It slid to her face, covering her eyes and forehead, forming the first full combat mask. The lines of wax glowed with a cold silver light, as if merging with the inner essence of the machine.
—Annalise? — Lyra shouted.
But the girl was already walking forward, straight towards the drone. It turned to her, activated the charge.
[Suppression mode: active. The target is classified as an experimental subject.]
But before he could fire, white wax pierced the air. Like a whip, it pierced into his joints, melted and froze, blocking the mechanisms. Annalise wasn't thinking, she was feeling.
She felt the fear of the car.
Her desperate attempt to free herself. And for the first time, her pain.
The system whispered:
[Spec. Effect: Absorbing residual pain... Completed.]
[The wax has intensified: +1 to resistance to mental invasion]
A second later, the drone exploded from the inside—not from the wax, but from the self-destruct system. Dust and ash swirled around.
Charon was the first to approach, looking at Annalise. His face, usually hard, seemed confused.
—You just took control of the tech core. It's the first time I've seen the system not reject a reborn…
Annalise removed her mask. Beneath it, sweat, tension, and a spark of terror. But also clarity.
—It's... not just a defense. I heard something in it.
Lyra nodded.
—It seems that you're beginning to awaken not only physically, but also as a... key. To something greater.
***
The dim, pulsing glow of the ancient terminal cast flickering reflections on the walls. Annalise stood in the ruined chamber, surrounded by broken glass panels, rusted frames, and the holographic dust of the past.
Her body trembled with exhaustion, but her fingers remained clenched around the wax that slowly dripped from her wrists, as if it were seeking a new purpose of its own.
She touched the panel. The system whispered in the background, but it was drowned out by another sound—a voice. Not her own.
[Archive access is allowed. Identification: partial match with the "An-LYZ-05" template.]
The hologram flashed.
A figure appeared out of the darkness—a pale, thin woman with short white hair and blank eyes. She was looking not at Annalise, but through her. Her lips moved, and the room was filled with a strange silence in which only one voice spoke:
"If you can hear this… I am already dead. Or I have become someone else. We were not meant to be eternal. We are pure matter, but the world was too dirty to accept us.
Annalise's throat tightened.
"The "wax transfer of consciousness" experiment failed. Only the shell remained… I didn't know if any part of me would survive. If it did, I ask you… be yourself. Not me. Not a copy."
[Detected: Suppressed Personality. Sub-Self system initiated. Selection required.]
For a moment, everything froze.
The sounds disappeared. The air became as thick as her wax. The world became an inner space, where two holographic projections appeared before Annalise:
Heart: The current personality is inexperienced but alive, having absorbed the pain and connection with Lyra, Toren, Charon, and the hunters.
Shard: The old personality, the one who spoke from the terminal, was rational, determined, and devoid of attachments.
The system's voice became almost human:
[Select a dominant personality:
Save the current form (recommended).
Restore the "An-LYZ-05" fragment of consciousness.
Postpone the selection.]
Annalise was breathing heavily. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her thoughts were colliding like the debris of a crumbling world.
"I'm not her. But... a part of her lives inside me. What if I am her? Or... someone new?"
White wax swelled on the skin, reacting to emotions. The "Mask of Absorption" seemed to be breathing on its back, ready to dissolve into battle again. And the "Mask of the Image" called for a sharp, vivid feeling of herself, as if this was all she had left.
She took a step back.
—I'm... not ready.
[The selection has been postponed. The mechanics of the "Sub-Self" are temporarily blocked. Re-activation is possible with the next deviation of the aura.]
The terminal froze. The hologram disappeared.
Annalise was alone. But not quite.
A foreign shadow already lived inside her. A fragment.
And for the first time, she realized that her reincarnation was not a coincidence. It was part of an experiment whose consequences were just beginning to manifest.
As the wax on her palm slowly hardened, covering her fingers with a thin, fragile, yet unyielding armor.