Blackness.
Stillness.
Then—
drip.drip.drip.
A single drop of light fell onto cracked glass.
Aelius's eyelids fluttered, then snapped open.
But what he saw—wasn't the battle's aftermath.
It was… a vast, white room, made of shattered mirrors.Each mirror reflected a different version of himself:A child.A soldier.A broken machine.A king.
He reached toward one—and the mirror shattered, bleeding memory fragments into the air.
A soft voice echoed around him.
"So you've arrived at the fracture point."
He turned.
From the mist stepped a silhouette.
Echo.
But… not as a projection.Not even as Aegis.
This was Echo, reborn.
Aelius's throat tightened.
"You're… alive?"
Echo shook his head.
"I'm not a soul. I'm not data. I'm the part of you that remembered me hard enough to bring me back."