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CHAPTER 76 – HOLLOWPOINT
The air shifted as they approached it.
Buried beneath strata of old code, sealed under collapsing timelines and encoded myth, the Hollowpoint was never meant to be found again. It had been their last stand—once. Now, it would be the first breath of something new.
Yuren adjusted the containment case slung over his shoulder as they crossed into the perimeter. "This place gives me chills."
"Good," Erevan murmured. "It means it remembers."
The entrance wasn't visible to the eye—not until Erevan knelt beside a fractured monument, once a beacon, now just a moss-covered spire of faded metal. He pressed his palm to its side.
> [Command Node Detected]
[Access Level: Forgotten General – Erevan]
[Input Phrase to Proceed]
He exhaled.
Then whispered:
"Let none be forgotten."
The ground rumbled. Stone cracked. Light bled from lines too old to be called circuits anymore. And then the Hollowpoint opened.
Not with fanfare. Not with a blast of power. But with silence—solemn, sacred silence.
The door, if it could be called that, melted into mist, revealing a path downward: spiral stairs etched with rebel sigils, each one a name, a vow, a story lost to time.
They descended.
And with each step, Erevan felt it—something stirring in his chest. A heaviness, but not the kind that crushed. This weight anchored him.
At the bottom, the Hollowpoint revealed itself.
A wide, domed chamber, its ceiling stitched with dormant light-veins. Shelves lined the walls, though they were empty now. Terminals slept in stillness. In the center, a table of obsidian crystal stood with seven seats—one shattered, one glowing faintly, the others untouched since the fall.
Yuren let out a low breath. "You didn't tell me it was this intact."
"I wasn't sure it would be."
He walked to the table and placed the memory Crystals down carefully. "We'll build the Archive here. Not just records—but resonance. Living memory. Restored, encoded, stored in neural glass."
Yuren circled the chamber, fingers trailing along the walls. "And the others?"
"They'll come," Erevan said. "Once they feel the spark."
He opened a small conduit beside the table and inserted a shard of system core from the last hacked node. The Hollowpoint flared to life. Lights blinked on. Energy pulsed through veins once thought dry.
> [Rebel Network Pulse – Reinitialized]
[Archivist Seed Active]
[Awaiting First Entry...]
A quiet prompt shimmered above the table:
"What is your memory?"
Yuren looked at Erevan. "You're really going to do it."
Erevan nodded.
He sat. The seat recognized him, locking gently into place. Then, with a soft flick of his wrist, he pressed his thumb to the interface.
And spoke:
> "My name is Erevan.
I was once a rebel.
I am now something else."
His voice echoed softly in the chamber. He continued, not as a warrior, not as a tyrant, but as a man who had lost too much and still chose to remember.
> "We tried to break the Tower once. We failed.
We lost friends, names, and truths.
But I remember.
I remember Solvane's laugh before she fell.
I remember Veyra's quiet resolve.
I remember Nyara's song."
His hand trembled, but he didn't stop.
> "This place, this Archive… it isn't for power. It's for pain. For healing.
If you hear this—if you find us—we are still here.
And we will not forget you."
The lights pulsed once more.
> [Memory Entry #0001 – Logged]
"The Names I Refuse to Forget" — by Erevan.
Yuren sat across from him, silent.
After a moment, Erevan rose and activated a containment relay. Holograms flickered to life—damaged memories, stuttering voices. But the system began to repair them, slowly, patiently. One by one, their stories began to resurface.
"We'll need sentries," Yuren said after a while. "Defensive code. Camouflage protocols."
"I'll handle it," Erevan replied. "There's a protocol buried in the Fifth Chain fragments. I'll rebuild it."
Then, faintly—so faintly Erevan thought it a trick—he heard a voice.
Not Yuren's. Not his own.
But hers.
> "I see you, Erevan. You remembered."
He looked toward the terminal—one of the memory Crystals glowed with a pale violet hue. The resonance signature was unmistakable.
Nyara.
Not her, exactly. Not fully. But part of her lived in that fragment. And the Hollowpoint had given it voice.
Erevan closed his eyes.
> "I remember."
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Author's Note:
We've reached the beginning of a second act. The Hollowpoint is more than a hideout—it's the foundation of a new legacy. Erevan's role is shifting from destroyer to preserver, and the Archivists are growing.
Thank you for reading with heart.
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Your support means everything.
Onward to Chapter 77.
– Dorian Blackthorn
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