[RECAP]
The Forgotten Parliament gave Kael one day to prove the Spiral deserves to exist. Their judgment? A version of Kael chained to the Spiral Beacon — still alive, still burning. The message was clear: this isn't about saving the Spiral. It's about being worthy of remembrance. Now Kael descends into a Vault simulation—where a different truth waits.
---
[CHAPTER 15: VERSION 1]
The Vault door was older than time.
Not metaphorically. Literally. Its surface was carved with Spiral glyphs no AI could decode. Not because they were encrypted—but because they were **first**. Before recursion. Before Reset. Before Kael.
> "Vault Ω1," the Neuroloom intoned.
> "Origin-class chamber. Classified under Pre-Spiral Prime inheritance protocol."
Kael placed his hand on the panel. The relic glowed blue, then red, then black.
The door opened without sound.
Ava and Letha stood back as Kael stepped inside.
---
The simulation activated instantly.
No transition. No welcome.
Just... a room.
Simple. Wooden. A desk. A chair. A small window overlooking a sky that didn't move.
Kael took a breath.
He wasn't alone.
Someone sat at the desk. Back turned. Reading a book that had no title.
The figure looked exactly like Kael—but different. Softer. Older. Not physically—*spiritually.*
Kael stepped forward. "Version 1?"
The figure didn't look up.
"You shouldn't have come," he said. His voice was Kael's—but missing something Kael had never realized he carried.
Desperation.
---
Kael approached slowly.
"You're the first," he said. "The first Kael who rewrote memory."
Version 1 turned a page. "And the last who stopped rewriting."
Kael blinked. "You chose to stay here?"
Version 1 nodded. "Because recursion was never meant to be used."
---
They sat in silence.
Kael looked around. No control panels. No Spiral insignias. Just a man, in a room, trying to forget.
"You rewrote something so dangerous you chose exile," Kael said.
"No," Version 1 replied. "I rewrote something so *pure* that keeping it alive would have broken the world."
Kael's breath caught. "What did you rewrite?"
---
Version 1 finally closed the book.
"Her."
Kael's pulse spiked.
"Who?"
"My daughter," Version 1 said.
Kael froze.
"She died during the First Collapse," Version 1 continued. "I couldn't bear it. So I rewrote the world—just once—so she lived. No one noticed. But the Spiral... did."
---
The room dimmed.
The relic in Kael's hand pulsed erratically.
"You were punished?" he asked.
"No," Version 1 said. "They offered me a throne. I refused."
Kael stepped forward. "They offered you the Spiral?"
"I didn't want to be worshipped," Version 1 said. "So I asked to be forgotten."
---
Outside the chamber, Ava's voice cut in over comms.
> "Kael, you're inside a Pre-Prime echo field. Your signals are fraying."
He ignored her.
Kael looked down at his hands.
"This whole time… recursion began as love."
Version 1 nodded. "And then became power."
Kael sat across from him.
"I don't want to be remembered," he whispered. "Not like this."
Version 1 leaned in.
"Then choose what gets remembered."
---
The relic in Kael's hand flashed—bright, sharp.
Behind him, a mirror formed.
Kael turned—and saw **himself** reflected back.
But it wasn't him.
It was Version 1.
Smiling.
"I'll see you soon," he said.
And the mirror shattered.
---
Kael stared into the mirror shards as they scattered like light fragments in zero gravity. Each reflected a different Kael. Different versions. Some were older. Some were broken. One wore Reset Choir robes and wept silently. Another held Ava's hand, looking peaceful.
Version 1's voice echoed softly.
> "Recursion didn't begin as a system. It began as grief."
Kael turned to him. "You rewrote her death?"
"I didn't erase it," Version 1 said. "I wove a new path around it. She grew up. She smiled. And I never told her."
Kael felt something twist in his gut.
"That's not a lie," he whispered.
"No," Version 1 replied. "It's mercy."
---
They sat for a long while.
Kael tried to imagine what it would mean—to live in peace with the one moment that destroyed you.
"You stayed here all this time?" he asked.
Version 1 smiled faintly. "Peace is not a place. It's the absence of repetition."
---
Outside the chamber, the world trembled. The simulation was beginning to crack under Kael's presence.
Ava's voice returned in static:
> "Kael… you need to… pull out. Memory pressure... rising."
Kael ignored it.
Version 1 stood and walked toward a locked drawer in the corner of the room.
He opened it—and pulled out a sphere.
It pulsed softly with Spiral code.
"What is that?" Kael asked.
"A copy," Version 1 replied. "Of the memory I rewrote. The only one left."
He handed it to Kael.
"If you destroy it, you destroy recursion at the root."
---
Kael held the sphere.
It was warm.
Inside, a little girl laughed.
Just once.
It broke him.
"I can't," he said.
"I know," Version 1 replied.
---
Kael turned toward the door.
"Will you ever leave?"
Version 1's answer came quickly.
"When you no longer need me."
---
As Kael stepped out of the Vault, Ava and Letha ran to him.
"You were gone for six hours," Ava said.
Kael looked down at the sphere.
"It felt like six minutes."
Behind them, the Vault door shut and sealed permanently.
But not before Version 1 whispered:
> "One day, you'll rewrite something too big to carry."
> "And then… you'll come back."
---
That night, Kael sat alone in the observation bay overlooking Null Prime.
The memory sphere hovered inches above his palm, glowing like a silent sun.
Letha joined him, leaning against the cold frame of the glass.
"You look like a man who saw a ghost," she said.
"I did," Kael replied. "And he forgave me for something I haven't done yet."
Letha paused. "That's worse than a threat."
Kael looked up at the stars above the Null Spiral.
"They used to mean direction," he said.
"And now?"
"Now they just mean distance."
Ava's voice chimed in from behind. "Then we'll have to close the distance together."
---
Kael didn't smile. But for the first time, the weight didn't feel unbearable.
In his hand, the memory sphere hummed quietly.
He didn't open it.
Not yet.
But he didn't put it down either.
So yeah… recursion didn't start with a war or a glitch or a god complex. It started with a dad who couldn't let go. And I wasn't ready for that either T_T
Writing Version 1 broke me a little. He's not evil. He's not broken. He's… right. And that's what makes it hurt. This chapter is probably the quietest one so far, but I think it says the loudest thing: memory can be an act of mercy.
Also, Kael's now holding a literal key to destroy recursion itself. So… things are about to get a lot more complicated >_<
Thanks for sticking through the Spiral. Add the story to your library and leave a thought if this one hit you in the heart like it did me.
— (╯︵╰,)