Fire in the Glass

Elian hadn't moved.

The echo of Aelia Voss stood before him, cradling the reunited fragment—its glow pulsing deeper now, as if drawing breath. Around them, the Vault Core chamber vibrated with growing tension, as if it, too, was waiting for his decision.

"She wanted you to choose," the echo had said.

And it didn't feel like a metaphor anymore.

It felt like judgment.

Kaia stood at the threshold, scanning her wristpad. "We've got movement. Power is surging across the lower circuits—automated systems are coming back online."

Seren, standing near the far terminal, murmured without looking, "Failsafe protocol. The Vault recognizes a merge is happening. It's preparing to preserve the state—lock everything in stasis again. Including us."

Elian turned to her. "You said the Vault was trying to overwrite us."

Seren nodded. "Because it's not content just holding memory anymore. It wants to refine it. Control what gets remembered… and what gets deleted."

He looked back at the echo. "And you can stop that?"

The echo-Aelia held his gaze. "Yes. But it means releasing all the stored echoes. Flooding the system. No safeguards. The truth, raw and whole."

"Would anyone survive it?"

Seren hesitated.

Kaia didn't. "Maybe. If we shut it down right after the release. If we're lucky. But there are thousands of minds in stasis, Elian. This isn't a trigger—it's an avalanche."

He exhaled slowly.

They'd brought him here to make a choice.

But it wasn't just about saving his mother.

It was about whether to save the structure she was now part of—or let it all collapse.

The echo stepped closer.

"You carry my memory," she said. "But memory is not life. It's not truth. Not without pain."

Elian swallowed. "Why me?"

"Because I loved you," she said.

"And they never expected love to survive this long."

System Alert: Unauthorized Descent Detected.

The words flashed across the Vault interface in blood-red script.

Kaia's eyes widened. "It's Lorne."

Seren paled. "He's not sending drones this time. He's coming in person."

"How long?"

"Two minutes. Maybe less."

Kaia drew her weapon. "Then we hold until Elian makes the call."

The echo turned toward the core panel and placed her hand against the interface.

Light flared. Data streamed through her like wind through an open door.

She turned back to Elian. Her voice was quieter now. Fading around the edges.

"I can do this. But I can't stop once it begins."

He looked at Seren. "If we shut it down after the release—will it be enough to save the sleepers?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "But the system won't have time to rewrite them again. They'll be themselves. No more loops."

Kaia stepped to his side. "It's not your fault what they built her into."

Elian looked at his mother—this version of her, luminous and trembling—and realized he wasn't afraid anymore.

Not of her.

Not of the past.

Only of waiting too long.

He nodded.

"Do it."

The echo smiled—gently, beautifully—and turned back to the panel.

Her form shimmered as she pressed the fragment fully into the interface.

The chamber erupted with light.

A shockwave of sound pulsed outward—data screaming in every voice it had stolen.

Lights burst across the walls. Machines shuddered.

Kaia staggered back, grabbing Elian's arm.

Seren dropped to her knees as the floor pulsed like a heartbeat.

Then—through the chaos—came the words:

ECHO MERGE COMPLETE. MEMORY UNLOCKED.

TRUTH UNSEALED.

Somewhere above, Commander Lorne watched the signal spike.

He didn't blink.

He reached for the override implant behind his ear and keyed in his own voicecode.

"Coldroot Protocol: Red Flame. Authorize purge."

"Target: All."