Chapter 4: Whispered Truths

Emily drifted in the space between sleep and waking, her mind untethered, floating somewhere it didn’t recognise.

At first, it felt like an ordinary dream.

Fragments of childhood surfaced—summer rain on warm pavement, the creak of a playground swing, the comfort of familiar laughter. The past unfolded softly, gently, like memories meant to soothe.

Then the edges began to ripple.

The room around her was her bedroom, but wrong. The walls pulsed faintly, bending as though reality itself were breathing. Shadows lingered where they shouldn’t, stretching too long, folding in on themselves.

And then the distant whispers began in the back of her mind.

She’s almost ready.
The algorithm is stabilising.
What will she choose?

The voices weren’t loud. They didn’t need to be. They slid between her thoughts, intimate and knowing, threading themselves into her consciousness as if they had always belonged there.

Emily turned—and saw them.

Ethan and Caitlyn stood a few feet away, their faces half-lit, suspended in an unreal stillness. Something in her chest tightened as she looked at Ethan first.

She felt him before she understood what she was feeling.

Fear. Exhaustion. A constant, gnawing pressure, like he was holding his breath every second of every day. His thoughts weren’t words so much as weight—responsibility crushing down on him, the terror of losing himself piece by piece. And beneath it all, a quiet, aching uncertainty.

He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.

Emily’s breath caught.

Then she turned to Caitlyn.

The sensation changed instantly.

Where Ethan felt raw and fractured, Caitlyn was sharp—focused. Her emotions didn’t spill; they coiled. Emily’s awareness brushed against her, and the world seemed to tilt.

Suddenly, she knew.

Not guesses. Not suspicions.

Truth.

Caitlyn’s longing burned hot and possessive, stripped of politeness or restraint. She wanted Ethan—not just affection, not just closeness. She wanted him without interference.

Without Emily.

Moments Emily had dismissed snapped into place with brutal clarity. The subtle interruptions. The way Caitlyn’s gaze lingered. The quiet satisfaction when Emily was distracted, sidelined, dismissed.

Emily’s stomach twisted.

She shouldn’t be seeing this.
She shouldn’t be here.

But she didn’t pull away.

A voice—smooth, patient—curled through her thoughts.

Now you understand.
Now you see.

The room fractured, reality splintering like glass under pressure. The whispers grew louder, urgent.

Emily, wake up.

She gasped, jerking upright.

Darkness pressed in around her, broken only by the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains. Her heart hammered violently in her chest, breath coming too fast, too shallow.

And then she saw them.

Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, his arm loosely around Caitlyn. Caitlyn’s head rested against his shoulder, her body relaxed in sleep. They must have dozed off while watching over her.

The sight struck like a physical blow.

But it wasn’t just jealousy.

It was knowing.

Emily lay still, every muscle locked in place as the truth from her dream settled into her bones. This wasn’t imagination. It wasn’t intuition.

It was access.

Power.

Ethan stirred first, blinking blearily before his eyes found hers.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, relief softening his voice.

Emily nodded, unsure she trusted herself to speak.

As he focused on her, something in her mind shifted—like a door easing open.

And suddenly, she wasn’t just looking at him.

She was inside the space he kept hidden.

Regret washed over her first. Fear, thick and relentless. She felt the strain of constant vigilance, the terror of becoming something he didn’t recognise anymore. Images flickered—Ethan alone in his dorm room, staring at a screen as knowledge poured into him faster than he could cope, his sense of self fraying at the edges.

Emily’s breath stuttered.

She pressed her fingers into the mattress, grounding herself.

“You okay?” Ethan asked softly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I… had a weird dream,” she managed.

He gave a tired, humourless chuckle. “Yeah. Feels like my brain hasn’t shut off in weeks.”

Another thread pulled tight inside her.

She felt his loneliness.

And then—something else.

Her.

Emily.

The way he thought of her, the comfort she represented, the way she anchored him when everything else felt unstable. The realisation hit harder than anything else had.

She mattered to him.

More than she’d allowed herself to believe.

Emily squeezed her eyes shut, pressing a hand to her forehead as if she could physically stop what was happening.

“Emily?” Ethan leaned closer, concern sharpening his voice. “What’s wrong?”

She opened her eyes and met his gaze.

“I need to tell you something,” she said, the words tumbling out before fear could stop them.

He straightened. “Okay.”

“I like you,” she said quietly. “I have for a long time.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Ethan blinked. “You… what?”

She let out a shaky breath, forcing a small smile. “I know. The timing’s awful. I just—I didn’t want you thinking I was acting strange because of… something else.”

His mind spun, emotions colliding—she felt it all even without meaning to.

“Emily,” he said carefully, “you’re my best friend. You always have been. And lately… everything feels like it’s changing faster than I can keep up with. I don’t even know who I am right now.”

She reached for his hand without thinking.

“You’re still you,” she said. “No matter what’s happening.”

His fingers tightened around hers—just slightly. Enough to matter.

Then he hesitated.

And Emily knew.

Caitlyn had told him how she felt.

The truth settled heavily in her chest, sharp and aching. She felt his guilt, his confusion, the way he didn’t want to hurt either of them.

“I don’t want to choose wrong,” he admitted quietly.

Emily swallowed, fighting back tears.

She wished—desperately—that she didn’t know what she knew.

The pressure built suddenly, fast and violent. A low, electric hum threaded through her skull, her vision dimming at the edges. The whispers returned, louder now.

She is ready.
Begin synchronisation.

Pain flared behind her eyes as something latched on. Thoughts fragmented, flooding with patterns, directives, psychological frameworks she hadn’t asked for.

“Emily!” Ethan shouted, catching her as her body convulsed.

Her muscles locked, then jerked violently as the presence surged deeper, rewriting, optimising.

Then—

A sharp burst of static tore through her mind.

GHOST PROTOCOL ENGAGED.
DISRUPTING SYNCHRONISATION SEQUENCE.

The pressure snapped.

Emily arched once, gasping, then went limp.

Ethan held her, shaking.

“Emily—wake up, please—”

Her breathing was shallow, uneven. Cold sweat dampened her skin.

Another message flashed across his phone.

Emergency override successful.
Sync disruption holding. Subject remains vulnerable.

Caitlyn woke with a sharp intake of breath.

“What happened?”

Ethan looked up, panic written across his face. “She collapsed.”

“She needs a hospital,” Caitlyn said immediately, reaching for her phone.

“No,” Ethan snapped, grabbing her wrist. “We can’t. If Omniscient sees this, they’ll finish what they started.”

Fear warred with logic in Caitlyn’s eyes. “Then what do we do?”

Ethan didn’t answer.

Instead, his phone rang.

Unknown Caller.

He knew.

With shaking hands, he answered. “What do you want?”

Dr. Adrian Mercer’s voice was calm, almost gentle.

“Ethan,” he said, “I can save Emily.”

Ethan’s grip tightened as he looked down at her fragile, unmoving form.

“I have the resources you don’t,” Mercer continued. “Bring her in. No threats. No traps. Just help.”

Caitlyn shook her head, whispering, “Don’t.”

Mercer’s tone softened further.

“Time is running out.”

The choice hung between them—heavy, suffocating.

And Ethan realised, with sickening clarity, that Omniscient had finally cornered him.