Chapter 14 — The Echo That Stayed

> "If you're hearing this… don't follow. Lead."

The crackling buzz of static filled the silence of the control room, like the hum of a city holding its breath.

Ashar stood before the central holo-display, his figure casting an elongated shadow across the walls. The messages had come through so many times now, he could almost predict their arrival. Short bursts. Coordinates buried in layers of encryption. But every time they dropped into the channel, he felt it like a gut punch, a reminder that the quiet hum of the rebellion had only grown into a storm on the horizon.

"Do you hear it?" Rhyen's voice was almost a whisper, but in the dim light, it carried weight.

Ashar didn't turn around. He kept his gaze on the flickering map, but his mind wasn't there. Not entirely.

He didn't answer her immediately. Instead, he allowed the voice to filter through him. The voice of him. That same transmission—to those who hear. His own voice, filtered and warped, rebroadcast across the grid like a shadow that refused to leave.

"It's not the same," Rhyen said again, her tone low, but carrying the urgency that only Rhyen could deliver when something tore at her. "That voice... It isn't just your words. There's something else."

Ashar finally turned to face her.

"I know," he said quietly, his voice like stone scraping against metal. "And that is the problem."Flashback — Several Months Prior

Before the broadcasts. Before the chaos.

Ashar had walked through halls of opulence, corridors lined with holo-sculptures depicting the smooth promises of progress and peace. They were beautiful, these visions—projected futures that shone in the polished veneer of their promises. He remembered the weight of his hand on the railing as he had descended into the depths of the Capitol's lower sanctum. The Council members had been discussing the next steps, of course—power consolidation, resource management, alliances with the outlying sectors—but Ashar had been there for only one reason.

To be heard.

He had been silent for so long.

"You don't know what you're doing," Rhyen had said, standing across from him in the briefing room. It had been a heated exchange. Her sharp eyes watched him with a kind of quiet fury. "You think you can fix it with words. With ideals."

Ashar hadn't responded right away. He had only stared at her, studying the tension between them. The world was collapsing, but they were still playing games. They had been too comfortable. Too protected by their glass walls, their polished marble floors.

"You can't fix this with words," Rhyen had repeated. "We need action. Not more speeches."

Present Day

Ashar snapped out of the memory. The room had grown colder, even though the air was heavy with humidity. There were too many things happening, too many things on the verge of breaking. He could feel the weight of it pressing against him, like hands on his chest, pushing the air from his lungs. This... echo of his voice—it was more than a simple replication of his words. It was a distortion.

"Rhyen," Ashar began, his tone sharp now, "whoever is doing this isn't just repeating my message. They're warping it."

He gestured toward the map, where the familiar jagged lines of Sector 9 were now showing new, unsettling movements. There was a flurry of encrypted signals breaking out across the southern corridors. Ashar couldn't tell if the signals were from civilians or something else entirely, but the pattern was clear. Chaos was drawing closer, as it always did.

"What is this?" Rhyen stepped closer to the display. "This... this isn't just an uprising. This is something calculated. You know it."

Ashar nodded, his face growing harder. "It's a trap."

Rhyen's expression faltered for a moment. "Who would want to trap you? Or—" She hesitated. "Is this some kind of game with Dymos?"

"No," Ashar cut her off. "Dymos is a ghost in the machine. This isn't about power—it's about control. Whoever is broadcasting these echoes... they're not just mimicking my words. They're using my voice to break something inside the people, something deeper."

Flashback — The First Time He Heard It

The first time Ashar had heard it, he had been in a meeting with the High Council, reviewing the latest satellite data on the regions they controlled. The holo-display had buzzed to life, an encrypted channel flickering on. For a moment, he had thought it was a glitch—until the voice emerged from the static.

It was his voice, clear as day.

"To those who hear," it began, just as it had days ago. "I see you. The Council will not stop you."

The words had made the room freeze. Ashar had felt his own blood run cold.

"Who did this?" Virel demanded, but no one could answer. It was impossible to trace the signal.

Later, in private, Ashar had gone over the footage of the broadcast again and again, listening for something that didn't fit. It wasn't just his words being replayed. The voice... it sounded like him, but somehow, it carried more weight. It resonated deeper, almost as if it had been hollowed out, stripped of something human.

He'd tried to ignore it. Tried to move on. But it had stayed with him. Like an echo that never stopped.Present Day

The silence in the room stretched thin.

Ashar rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to shake off the creeping unease that had settled into his bones. "This... this isn't just a message. Someone's using it. Someone wants to control the story. To rewrite it."

Rhyen's brows furrowed. "You don't think it's... your past catching up to you?"

Ashar met her gaze. For a moment, a flicker of regret passed through him, but he quickly suppressed it. "I don't know. But I do know one thing. Whoever is behind this—they're not just after my voice. They want my legacy. What I represent. And they want to twist it into something... dangerous."

He turned back to the map, his mind already moving faster than his words.

The Southern Corridors had erupted into violent resistance in the past few weeks. Entire cities now existed on the brink of collapse. What had started as localized unrest had now become an all-out fight. The signals from the south were coming in fast—too fast. The civilians, the rebels, they were organizing with a kind of desperation Ashar hadn't seen before.

And at the center of it, was the echo of his own voice, calling to them.

"The question is," Ashar said slowly, turning back to Rhyen, "who benefits from this? Who gains when everything collapses?"Flashback — The Last Council Meeting

It had been the final meeting before everything started to break. Ashar had entered, fully aware of the cracks in the system, but he hadn't expected them to finally show themselves so openly. Dymos was there, too. He was always there now, sitting in the shadows, watching with that predatory calm. The room was full of tension, but Ashar had said little. It was Virel who had broken the silence.

"We cannot keep letting this fester," Virel said, slamming a fist on the table. "It's eating away at us."

"You think we can stop it?" Ashar's voice was calm, steady. But inside, he felt something stir. Something primal.

"Stop what?" Virel asked, narrowing his eyes. "The rebellion? The resistance? This is our only choice, Ashar. You've let this go on too long."

Ashar looked around at the faces of his fellow council members—those same faces that had once held power over entire sectors. Their fear was palpable. And beneath that fear, something darker. Something that craved control.

But Ashar had known from the start. Control was an illusion. And the time for illusions had passed.

Present Day

"The next move is critical," Rhyen said, snapping Ashar back to the present. "We need to act. Now."

Ashar looked at her, his gaze softening just slightly. "I know. But we can't just charge in blindly. We need to find out who's behind this. Who's using my voice—and why."

Rhyen nodded. "We'll find out."

But Ashar wasn't so sure. The more he thought about it, the more he realized the true danger wasn't just the rebels on the outside. It wasn't even Dymos. It was the silence that had been filled with echoes of the past, of things that should have stayed buried.

Ashar turned toward the door, his eyes scanning the darkened sky outside. It was only a matter of time before the storm reached them.

And when it did, there would be no going back.