He was unsure if there really was someone there. He turned, planning on wandering the city once again, but he's curiosity got the better of him, and followed the shadow.
Not because he trusted it — he didn't trust anything that didn't breathe — but because it knew what it's purpose. It moved like it had direction. And in this city that devours memory, even the hint of purpose was holy.
The streets changed behind him, he knew of this ever since he was conscious, so he usually pays little to no attention to it. But this time, this time it felt...different.
Buildings stretched taller and thinner, looking almost shy in their height, and not just that, the signs that used to display names and messages were now blank. Benches, once inviting places he used to sit on, were now rusty and wilting.
"Was this place always like this?" He asked to himself, turning his head left and right.
The light in the streets felt different too. It still came from above, but instead of shining brightly from the sun, it spilled through a crack in the sky, casting an odd glow on everything.
As he walked, a shadow turned into an alley that seemed to appear out of nowhere. He turned to follow it, but just like that, the alley was gone. Instead, he found himself facing a wall of eyes, dozens or maybe even hundreds, all blinking together. But one eye was different—it stared wide open and trembling, as if it had just woken up and was filled with fear and confusion.
Do you remember what your last name was?
"I—I don't..."
The eye shut, with that, the wall crumbled. Behind it, was a stairwell leading down, it's was long, so long, he couldn't see what was at the bottom.
"Well, here goes nothing." he sighed.
There was in fact, nothing. Light? Railings? Non-existent. Just the sound of echoes that weren't his.
Each step felt like it aged him, not his body, that stayed unchanged, but his memories.
Still, he kept walking.
And eventually...
...he found her.
But this was not the woman from the voice. It was a girl, no older than ten. Sitting on the floor with her legs crossed and surrounded by mirrors that showed everywhere but here.
She was drawing, not with regular crayons, but with bones. Tiny ones. Bird bones, maybe. She dipped them into her wrists like they were ink wells, then used it to draw on the floor.
"Took you long enough," she said, still looking at the floor.
"Who are you?" he asked.
She shrugged.
"I'm the part of you that stayed when you left."
He didn't understand, "W—What do you mean?"
She stood up, and suddenly she wasn't a girl, she was everyone he'd ever forgotten. She wasn't shifting, she was flickering, like memory played through broken glass.
"You're an anchor," she whispered. "They built you to break. But breaking made you remember."
"Remember what?"
She smiled sadly.
And then pointed upward, through the concrete, through the city, through everything. "You are the one that gave it a heart."
She slowly faded away, leaving no screams or drama behind, it was just a silent farewell. As she disappeared, the mirrors around her shattered into pieces.
In their place, a wooden door, beautifully carved with a symbol he had never seen before, appeared. Although he hadn't seen it before, he instantly recognized it as his. It wasn't a name or a word, it simply belonged to him. He opened it and stepped through.
Above him, the glass gate finished cracking.
End of chapter 2.