The outpost wasn't on any map.
It existed because it shouldn't have — nestled in a collapsed district where gravity bowed and buildings grew sideways. Scav teams called it Foldline.
You didn't trade names there.
Only memory.
Only favors.
Only fragments.
Cael kept his hood low as they passed through the alley of makeshift vendors. Some sold food. Others sold teeth — harvested from dead zone beasts. One stall displayed bottled voices — each one whispering on loop, trapped in amber.
"Don't talk unless you need to," Lira muttered.
"Why?"
"Because your face looks like something that wants to be remembered."
They reached a rusted gate half-covered in chalk glyphs.
Inside: a round, low building lit by spiraling neon veins. The symbol above the door was the same as the Keymark — but broken.
"What is this place?"
"A refuge for dangerous knowledge."
"That sounds safe."
"It's not."
Inside, it was quieter than it should've been. Not silent — just... thoughtful.
A man sat at the central table, stringing together bone fragments like prayer beads.
He looked up the second Cael entered.
And froze.
"You…"
He stood, bones clattering to the floor.
"You're dead."
"What?"
"You died. I saw it. They took you into the second Lock and you never came out."
Lira stepped in front of Cael, hand near her blade.
"Back off."
"No," the man whispered. "No, it's him. It's Arik."
The name hit Cael like a thrown brick.
He didn't flinch outwardly.
But inside, something moved.
Not pain.
Recognition.
He didn't know the name.
But it knew him.
"You're mistaken," Lira said sharply.
The man backed away, muttering.
"Arik. Thirian-batch. He made it through. He made it through and then they wiped him."
He laughed — not kindly.
"You think memory is the only thing that lies? Try identity."
Lira grabbed Cael's arm and yanked him aside into a shadowed hall.
"You need to leave. Now."
"Why did he call me that?"
"I don't know."
"Yes you do."
Her voice dropped.
"Because I've seen records. I've seen experiments. And some of them... match your resonance."
"You think I was someone else?"
"I think you still are."
Cael leaned against the wall.
He tried to remember anything — any face, any place.
But his mind didn't give him memories.
It gave him phrases.
Fragments.
A list of words he never learned, but somehow knew:
"Reverse cascade. Priority anchor. Pattern breach."
None of it made sense.
Until the Keymark burned again — briefly, like a warning.
Across the zone, Solin knelt by an old campfire and reviewed a projected resonance map. One pulse flared brighter than the rest.
"There you are."
He tapped a control disc.
A team of four synthetic trackers turned toward him in unison.
"He's remembered enough to be dangerous."
"Let's go unmake that."
End of Chapter 7: Borrowed Names, Stolen Faces