The Forgotten Name

Victor had another name once, but it had been wiped away like so many things in the old world. What remained was his belief that survival wasn’t about redemption or renewal—it was about control.

In the ruins of a distant city, Victor had found what he believed to be his key to that control: a shard from a broken orb, buried in a derelict construct. It was old, imperfect, but powerful. He had gathered components in the city, and created a device that directed its power. It could override the gentle programming of the Creche, bending their purpose to his will.

For now, he bided his time, watching, waiting, and learning from the villagers. But in the quiet of his tent, Victor stared at the metallic case he carried everywhere. Inside, the fragment glowed faintly, like an ember waiting to ignite.

And Victor knew, with unshakable certainty, that the Creche were his to command.