Chapter 6: The First Message
Years passed quietly.
Not all at once.
Not in a rush.
They passed in small things.
In mornings that began with cold air and warm coffee.
In evenings filled with silence that no longer felt dangerous.
In footsteps through snow that Idris learned to follow… and eventually, to lead.
Aurelia Falls became familiar.
The trees.
The frozen lake.
The sound of wind moving through branches like a whisper that never quite stopped.
Idris grew.
Not just taller.
Stronger.
Sharper.
Silas made sure of that.
"Again."
Idris tightened his grip on the wooden rifle.
His hands steadier now than they had ever been as a child.
"Your stance is off."
"I know."
"Then fix it."
Idris adjusted.
Feet grounded. Shoulders aligned. Breath steady.
Silas watched.
Always watched.
"Don't aim with your eyes," Silas said. "Aim with your breathing."
Idris exhaled slowly.
The world narrowed.
The target ahead—just a simple wooden post—became the only thing that existed.
He pulled the trigger.
Crack.
The sound echoed through the trees.
A clean hit.
Silas nodded once.
"Better."
That was praise.
From Silas, it meant everything.
Inside the house, things were different.
War didn't exist there.
Not really.
Elena made sure of that.
"You don't have to carry everything," she said one evening, placing a plate in front of him.
Idris looked up.
"I'm not."
Elena smiled slightly.
"You think I don't see it?"
He didn't answer.
She sat across from him.
"You're allowed to just be a kid sometimes."
Idris glanced down at his hands.
They didn't feel like a kid's hands anymore.
"I don't think I remember how."
Elena's expression softened.
"That's okay."
A pause.
"We'll figure it out together."
School came next.
At first, it was noise.
Too many voices. Too many eyes. Too many questions.
"Where are you from?"
"Why do you talk like that?"
"Is your dad really military?"
Idris learned quickly.
What to answer.
What to ignore.
What to hide.
He became quiet.
Not invisible.
But close enough.
Time passed.
The questions stopped.
But the silence stayed.
By the time Idris reached college, he had built something that looked like a normal life.
Classes.
Routine.
Distance.
He was good at blending in.
Too good.
No one really knew him.
And maybe that was the point.
It started on a night like any other.
Rain tapped softly against the window.
Not snow this time.
Idris sat at his desk, a dim light casting shadows across the room.
Books open.
Laptop glowing.
The world outside blurred into streaks of gray and black.
Inside—
Stillness.
A notification sound broke it.
Ping.
Idris didn't react immediately.
Another message.
Ping.
He frowned slightly.
No one messaged him.
Not really.
He reached for the laptop.
The screen lit up.
Unknown sender.
A single line:
"Do you remember who you really are?"
Idris stared at it.
His chest tightened.
Just slightly.
Spam.
It had to be.
He moved to close it—
Another message appeared.
"Idris Rahimi."
His hand froze.
No one used that name.
No one.
Another line.
"We've been looking for you."
The room felt colder.
Idris leaned back slightly.
Eyes fixed on the screen.
This wasn't random.
"Who is this?"
He typed it slowly.
Carefully.
The response came almost instantly.
"Family."
Idris' jaw tightened.
"I don't have any."
A pause.
Longer this time.
Then—
"That's what they told you."
Something shifted.
Deep.
Uncomfortable.
Idris stared at the words.
They.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
"They saved me."
The reply came slower.
Deliberate.
"Did they?"
Another message followed.
"Or did they take you?"
The air in the room changed.
The past—something buried, something locked away—stirred.
Images flashed.
Dust.
Fire.
Silas.
"No."
The word came out louder than he expected.
His hands tightened.
"No."
He typed again.
Faster now.
"You don't know anything."
This time—
No immediate reply.
Seconds passed.
Then—
A file appeared.
Attached.
Idris hesitated.
Every instinct told him to close it.
Ignore it.
Walk away.
But something else—
Something quieter—
Told him to look.
He clicked it.
The screen shifted.
A document opened.
Black and white.
Official.
Military.
His eyes scanned the page.
Then stopped.
A name.
Silas Vance
Below it—
Words.
Accusations.
"Operation clearance… civilian casualties…"
Idris' breathing slowed.
Too slow.
"…suspected involvement in unauthorized strike…"
His chest tightened again.
No.
This wasn't real.
It couldn't be.
Another message appeared.
"You deserve the truth."
Idris shook his head.
"No…"
But he kept reading.
Line after line.
Each one digging deeper.
Each one planting something dangerous.
Doubt.
The rain outside grew heavier.
The room darkened.
And on the screen—
The past began to rewrite itself.
"Ask yourself," the next message read,
"who benefits from your silence?"
Idris leaned back slowly.
His mind raced.
Silas' voice echoed in his memory.
"You're not alone."
Elena's voice followed.
"You belong here."
The words felt… different now.
He looked back at the document.
At the name.
At the possibility.
And for the first time in years—
Idris questioned it.
Not fully.
Not completely.
But enough.
The message came again.
"We can help you remember."
Idris didn't reply.
He just stared at the screen.
And somewhere, deep inside—
The first crack appeared.
Not loud.
Not violent.
But real.
And once something cracks—
It never goes back to the way it was.