Echoes of heart

Chapter 2: Ghosts of Memory

The corridor stretched out before him, a dimly lit tunnel in the underground sector of the Dominion.

Zorak's steps echoed off the cold metal walls, though he hardly noticed. All his thoughts were fixed on the figure walking ahead, her familiar form moving with effortless precision through the daily crowd.

Kaia.

She was as beautiful as ever, her movements graceful but measured, efficient in a way that made her blend into the cold, calculated environment around them.

She no longer stood out—no longer radiated the warmth and fire she once had. The Kaia he had known was gone. What remained was a shell. And yet, Zorak couldn't help but follow her, day after day, hoping for a flicker of something more.

He caught up to her at the edge of the market, where artificial light flickered above the stalls of lifeless produce and synthetic goods.

She was engaged in conversation with another worker, her expression calm, indifferent. To anyone else, she would seem normal, just another person going through the motions.

But to Zorak, her face was a constant reminder of what had been taken from them both.

"Morning, Zorak," she said, turning to face him. Her voice was neutral, with no emotions.

She smiled, but it was the kind of smile reserved for everyone, not old friends—certainly not for someone who had once held her heart.

"Morning," he replied, his voice steady despite the heaviness in his chest. He had practiced this response so many times it felt automatic now.

But behind the calm words, his heart ached with every step they took, side by side yet miles apart.

He watched as she walked on, her back straight, her pace brisk, moving through the crowd like a ghost. She was right there, so close he could almost reach out and touch her, but in truth, she was a world away. A world that the Dominion had created—one without emotion, without love.

As he followed her, his mind wandered to the time before it all changed. To the days when Kaia's smile had been real, when her laughter had filled the quiet places they had shared, back when love hadn't been a crime.

They had been sitting in the hidden gardens beneath Sector Three, where the only green in the underground world still survived under the dim glow of synthetic light. Kaia had leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder, eyes lost in thought.

"Do you ever think," she had said softly, "about what it means to feel something? To love?"

Zorak had chuckled, shaking his head. "You always ask questions like that, Kaia. You think too much."

"No," she replied, her voice firm. "You don't think enough about it. We live in this place, and it's like none of it matters. But it does, Zorak. Feeling things... it matters."

He had watched her then, as she looked up at the artificial sky, her eyes full of wonder, even in such a confined space. It had been so easy for him to dismiss it back then, to think of her words as just one of her whimsical thoughts.

But now, standing in the cold, sterile marketplace, he understood. She had been right. Feeling things did matter. And the Dominion had taken that away from her.

The memory faded as Zorak reached the edge of the gardens again, now overgrown and forgotten, a neglected part of the underground city.

The mechanical hum of the world around him filled the silence as he sank into the cold stone bench, his thoughts drifting back to Kaia's words.

How had it all come to this?

Love was the most dangerous thing in the Dominion. It was seen as a threat to order, to control. So they took it away—surgically removed the capacity to feel from anyone who showed even a hint of rebellion.

That's what they had done to Kaia. And now, she was perfect in their eyes—emotionless, efficient, obedient.

Zorak closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like if she could remember. If just for a moment, she could recall the nights they spent together, the dreams they had shared, the love they had once held so deeply.

But she couldn't. She was gone, at least in the way that mattered. All that was left was the shell.

"Do you feel anything at all, Kaia?" Zorak whispered to the empty air, knowing she wasn't there to answer. "Do you even know what they've taken from you?"

But it didn't matter. She couldn't answer. The Dominion had seen to that.

That night, Zorak found himself in his small, dimly lit apartment, staring out at the artificial cityscape that stretched endlessly beyond his window.

The lights blinked in perfect harmony, the people below moved like clockwork, and the machines hummed along in their never-ending rhythm.

But all he could think about was Kaia. About the way her hand used to feel in his, the way her eyes had once sparkled with life and mischief.

How she had once laughed and pulled him along on adventures through the underground tunnels, dreaming of a world beyond the confines of the Dominion.

Now, she was just another cog in the machine.

Zorak clenched his fists. He couldn't accept it. He wouldn't. There had to be a way to bring her back—to break through the walls the Dominion had built inside her mind. The thought had crossed his mind before, but he had always pushed it away.

It was too dangerous. Too reckless.

But what was the alternative? To go on like this, watching her live a life that wasn't really hers, while he pretended that everything was normal? Pretending that he wasn't still in love with her?

No. He couldn't do that.

There had to be a way. And he would find it.

The next morning, Zorak found Kaia again, this time in the central plaza, overseeing the distribution of supplies.

She moved with the same detached grace, her face calm, her expression unreadable. But as he approached her, something flickered in her eyes—just for a moment, a brief flash of something almost familiar. A faint echo of the woman she used to be.

"Zorak," she greeted him, her voice as neutral as ever.

"Kaia," he replied, his heart pounding in his chest, though he tried to keep his voice steady. He wondered if she noticed. Did she ever wonder why he was always there, always watching her, always so close?

Probably not. To her, he was just another worker, another person in the endless crowd of faces that passed her by every day.

But to Zorak, she was everything. And that brief flicker in her eyes—it was enough to give him hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was still something left inside her, something the Dominion hadn't fully erased.

He had to believe it. He had to.

Because if there was even the smallest chance that the Kaia he had loved still existed, he would do anything—anything—to bring her back.