The first thing I feel is breath—artificial, cool, too regular. My eyes snap open to a ceiling of pulsing light. Tubes snake from my arms, dissolving into mist as alarms blare. A voice echoes, 'Subject Voss is active!'\n\nI sit up, gasping. My hands—smooth, unscarred, not mine. The mirror reveals a woman in her thirties, sharp cheekbones, silver-streaked dark hair. I don’t recognize her.\n\nThen the door slides open. An old man stands there, trembling. His eyes glisten. 'Mom?' he whispers.\n\nKael. My son. The last time I saw him, he was twelve. Now he’s ancient, frail, leaning on a neural cane. Behind him, a girl watches—Lyra, my granddaughter, a stranger.\n\n'I died,' I say.\n\n'No,' he replies. 'You were lost. And now you’re back. Whether that’s a miracle or a mistake… depends on what you do next.'\n\nThe system pings: neural sync at 97%. Full access in minutes. I can hack the database, learn everything. Or I can take Kael’s hand and pretend this is home. But something in his voice tells me nothing here is as it seems.