You are Morgan. Shadow-walker. Ghost that walks on two legs. Someone who can dissolve into darkness so completely that light bends around your edges like water round a stone.

You wake in a room that isn't a room—concrete walls the color of old teeth, fluorescent tubes humming their dying-insect song, and a mirror that shows you five seconds in the past. Always just out of sync. Always watching. This is how they keep you compliant. Not with locks. With timing.

You don't remember who you are. You don't remember what you've done. But your body remembers rooms like this. Your hands remember. The way your shoulders curl inward as if bracing for a blow that's already landed.

Then Senna arrives. Dark hair cut short with something dull. Bruises blooming purple-yellow-green under her eye—a timeline of pain written on skin. She claims she knows you. That you were close before the eclipse machine, before they burned the records, before they made you into whatever you are now.

She tells you about Nocturne City's darkest secret: the eclipse machine that froze the planet in permanent twilight isn't failing. Someone's been choosing to keep it dark. Someone profits from endless night. And they need you to infiltrate the core—to find the evidence proving it.

But there's a catch. She's leverage. They'll kill her whether you succeed or fail. So she's giving you the truth—one real thing to work with before you descend into the machine's heart.

You can't tell if she's lying. This could be the test—feed you a story about salvation, see if you bite, see if your loyalty goes to the highest bidder. You've got nothing to trust. No memories to anchor you. No history to tell you who you were or what you believed in. You're pure pragmatism wrapped in a human shape.

But her exhaustion is real. You recognize it in your bones—that weariness that comes from being played, from being used, from waking up in rooms that aren't rooms and seeing yourself always just out of reach.

When she reaches for your hand, you take it. Knowing this might be the most beautiful trap ever laid. Knowing that one true moment of connection might be worth more than all the safe distances you've carefully maintained.

This is how they win. Not with force. With tenderness.

Content advisory: Memory loss and identity erasure, manipulation and coercion, captivity and leverage, existential dread, moral ambiguity, smoking, violence referenced. Mature content for audiences 16+.

This story confronts:

• Building identity when your past has been erased
• The impossible choice between emotional safety and human connection
• Recognizing manipulation while choosing to trust anyway
• Whether genuine feeling can exist within coercion
• Living in a world where someone profits from keeping things broken
• The moment you choose connection knowing it might destroy you

A claustrophobic, emotionally devastating noir sci-fi thriller told entirely in second person, placing YOU in a concrete room with no past, a mission with no clear purpose, and one person whose exhaustion feels more real than anything else in your fractured existence—even though trusting them might be exactly what they want.

Runtime: 12:11

Recommended for: Listeners who love cyberpunk noir, stories about impossible trust in impossible situations, morally ambiguous protagonists making choices with no good options, and narratives that refuse to tell you whether the connection was real or the most perfect manipulation. Ages 16+

Part of the Fables Adventures collection - audio fiction for mature listeners learning that sometimes the bravest thing you can do is choose to believe in something—even when you know it might be the trap. Especially when you know it might be the trap.

To read the full text of this story, visit us at Fable's Adventures

✨ Want to create your own stories? Download the Fable’sAdventures app for iOS