What Remains Of Us (Yang Tersisa dari Kita)

The shadows of the townhouse no longer held the same stillness. After what Ava had uncovered in the library, the house seemed to breathe—slow, deliberate inhales that made the walls pulse with unspoken stories. Morning sunlight streamed through the cracked blinds, but it did little to chase away the unease clinging to the corners.

She sat cross-legged on the living room rug, the cassette tape beside her, untouched since she found it. Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched a cup of tea. She had barely slept. The floorboards creaked overhead as if the house itself were restless.

Ava knew she couldn't delay any longer. She had returned from Boston late last night with Caroline's old tape recorder, dust-covered and fragile. It sat now on the floor, waiting.

She inserted the cassette.

The soft static buzz filled the room, followed by a woman's voice—measured, calm, and weary.

"This is Cassandra. March 17. If you've found this, I'm likely gone... or running."

Ava's breath hitched. The voice felt familiar, like a whisper from a dream she couldn't quite remember.

"They never intended for this to be discovered. Not the Society. Not Ben. Not even me."

Her heart thudded. The Society. Ben had mentioned it in his encrypted letters—but always vaguely. A group? A cult? An underground research team?

Cassandra continued. Her voice trembled.

"There's a truth buried beneath the town. A machine. Not man-made. Older. It's alive, in ways we never imagined. Ben wanted to shut it down. I wanted to understand it."

Ava leaned closer, her fingers white-knuckled around the cup.

"We thought we could harness it. We were fools. Every answer it gave cost us something. Some gave their lives. Some... their minds."

The tape clicked. Side A had ended. Ava sat frozen, thoughts spiraling. She flipped the tape, pressed play again.

Static. Then more from Cassandra.

"Ben warned me. He always had doubts. Said it wasn't discovery—it was temptation. He left. I stayed. I wish I could say I was brave. But I wasn't. I was obsessed. And now... the town is changing. You've seen it too, haven't you?"

Ava nodded to herself, as if Cassandra could see. Yes, she had.

The growing silence in Waverly Place. The way strangers started appearing, then disappearing. The man who watched from across the street every night at 2 a.m.

"If you're listening to this, Ava, then you're the last one who can do something about it."

Her name.

Ava's pulse roared in her ears.

"The map Ben left... it doesn't show the full layout. There's another entrance. A tunnel beneath the fireplace. You'll need the iron key. And courage."

The tape ended.

Ava sat in the silence, the gravity of her next steps sinking into her chest.

She stood slowly. Walked to the fireplace. The bricks felt solid, cold. But one shifted. She pressed. A hollow click.

Dust rose as a portion of the wall opened, revealing a narrow staircase plunging downward into darkness.

The air changed. It smelled of metal, salt, and something ancient.

She didn't hesitate. She grabbed her flashlight and descended.

The tunnel was lined with moss-covered stones. The deeper she went, the more she could hear a faint humming—mechanical, alive, rhythmic.

She emerged into a cavernous chamber. Lights pulsed along the ceiling—blue, soft, hypnotic.

In the center stood a structure. Metallic. Pulsing. A machine, but unlike any technology Ava had ever seen.

Wires—or veins?—slid along the floor.

A panel opened as she stepped closer. A screen flickered on.

"IDENTIFY."

Ava stared. Her name formed on the screen before she could speak it.

"AVA BRYN. ACCESS GRANTED."

She gasped. How did it know her?

Data scrolled. Names. Dates. Faces. Ben. Cassandra. Herself.

Then a folder. "THE INITIATIVE."

She opened it.

Videos played. Cassandra arguing with Ben. Scientists screaming. A room imploding into itself. Notes scrawled in desperation.

The truth wasn't just buried. It had been fed, nurtured, and now it was awake.

Ava backed away, but the machine spoke.

"SHOULD I END THIS, AVA?"

End what?

The machine pulsed faster.

"YOU HOLD THE FINAL KEY."

And in her coat pocket, she felt it—an iron key, heavy with age and intent.

The chamber trembled. The choice was hers.

To end the Initiative.

Or to let it evolve.

Her hand hovered over the control panel. Sweat dripped from her temple.

The ground quaked.

Outside, Waverly Place was quiet. For now.

Ava made her decision.

---