Into the Realm

Primrose awoke to silence, interrupted only by the distant, deliberate clicking of chess pieces. Her body lay still against the cold surface beneath her, her breath shallow as awareness slowly returned. Her head pounded, as if her mind was rebooting—slowly, painfully—bit by bit.

As the haze lifted, the environment around her began to sharpen; the familiar monochrome of the board stretching endlessly in all directions, the faint piano notes echoing beneath her with every slight movement, and shadows… shifting just beyond clarity.

Gradually, she pushed herself upright. Her eyes swept across the space, scanning with the analytical precision ingrained in her—a trait expected of a Validator. And there they were. The spectators from before—now participants, seemingly just as lost as she was. They stood scattered across the ground, their expressions clouded with uncertainty, some was frightened, others frozen mid-thought. No one moved with confidence, not even those she had assumed were more experienced.

This realisation struck her deeply; if they didn’t understand what was happening either, then whatever this realm was—it wasn’t part of the protocol. That alone made her spine stiffen with cautious dread. Still, even as the panic simmered beneath her skin, she forced herself to observe, process, and deconstruct. That was her duty, after all. She was here to validate, not to falter.

Her gaze wandered across the black and white expanse. There was no sky above them, no trace of sun or moon—only the grid-like floor stretching out into infinity, like an abandoned game still waiting to be played. The soft piano notes trailed her steps, oddly delicate, haunting in their rhythm. Her brow furrowed. Piano? she thought. It should have been a chessboard. That was what she remembered—her match, her opponent, the calculated tension of each move. Now the lines were blurring, and the pieces were gone. Wasn’t it supposed to be a chessboard?

Before she could reflect further, her thoughts were interrupted. The others—those same people—began to flicker, their bodies glitching with static overlays, like a failing signal trying to hold onto their presence. Her breath caught in her throat. A wave of awe and confusion surged in her chest. Were they digital twins all along, not the seniors she thought they were? Or… was this something entirely different? Something more?

She stepped forward cautiously, the piano notes beneath her echoing louder with each stride. It was then when she finally noticed a familiar figure among the flickering silhouettes—Prim-002. Without thinking, she lifted a hand and called out, “Hey... Prim the Second?” she asked as her voice sounded strangely distant and guarded. She stretched her arms slightly, searching for a sense of grounding in the familiar, however faint it was.

Then it came.

The voice.

Not from around her. Not from Prim-002. But from the chip embedded in her shoulder. It wasn’t a voice she recognised—not one from her briefing logs nor internal system. It was foreign. Disembodied. Mechanical. Yet it echoed with such clarity that it sliced through the melody around her like a blade.

“Were you forgetting anything?”

The suddenness of it made her flinch. Pain bloomed behind her eyes, and the World around her began to spin. Her knees buckled slightly as a swarm of half-formed memories surged forward. Her cat—soft and warm in her arms. The smile of someone who made her heart skip its beat. Long, wandering walks through foreign cities, camera in hand, chasing the perfect frame. The wind. The light. The freedom. All of it came rushing back.

But something was missing.

There was a void—a cold, hollow absence in the middle of it all. Why was she here? What had she been trying to uncover? She had come for answers, hadn’t she? For the truth behind her digital twin. For the simulation. For herself.

The voice’s question continued to echo in her mind like a broken corrupted loop: “Were you forgetting anything?”