"You knew this would happen," Serida said, voice low, sharp with betrayal.
The Crown — her Echo, her origin, her ghost — said nothing at first. She stood before the spiral gate with hands folded, back straight, an unreadable calm etched across her face.
Serida's blade was in her hand again. It wasn't just for protection now.
It was for truth.
"You built this cage," Serida pressed. "You bound it with us, sealed it behind memory and time. You erased yourself. Us. And now it's waking because we've remembered."
"Yes," the Crown said simply.
Ashbourne stiffened behind her. "Then why aren't you trying to stop it?"
The Crown turned slowly, eyes still marked with spinning glyphs. "Because it's not that simple."
Vexa's voice was shaking. "We're standing on top of a living god made from stolen memory and twisted souls, and you're telling us simple doesn't matter?"
"No," the Crown said, stepping forward. "I'm telling you that this… is not about destruction."
She gestured to the glowing gate — the seal between them and the Core.
"This is about rebirth."
Serida took a single step forward. "You sound like them. Like the Cradle."
The Crown smiled faintly, not with pride — with sorrow.
> "Because the Cradle was born from our failure. From your failure."
Lightning cracked silently behind Serida's ribs.
She didn't flinch, but the pain of those words went deeper than steel.
"What do you mean?" she asked, barely audible.
The Crown exhaled. "In your last life — your true life — you were the one who opened the Core. Not Kael. Not Lira. You."
"No," Serida whispered. "That's not true."
"You thought you could reprogram it. Cleanse it. Cut out the madness and preserve the knowledge. But you didn't understand it was alive. That it grew."
Serida stepped back, blade trembling.
Ashbourne looked between them, stunned. "Is that true?"
The Crown nodded. "Kael made the Core. But Serida… she gave it reason."
Vexa's voice cracked. "Then why are we listening to her?"
"Because she's the only one who knows how to stop it," the Crown said softly. "And even that won't be enough unless Kael chooses the right path."
Serida turned to the gate.
Behind it, the glyphs were shifting faster now. Spirals rotating inward, pulling reality tight like a noose. Memory fragments bled into the room — half-formed images of cities, battles, faces half-remembered. Screams of people never born.
> "It's waking," the Crown said. "But it's not trying to kill. It's trying to merge."
"Merge with what?" Serida asked.
"With him."
Ashbourne's eyes widened. "With Kael?"
The Crown nodded. "It wants to be complete. The Core isn't just a weapon. It's a reflection. It's what happens when guilt, genius, and grief are put in charge of reality."
The gate cracked.
Just slightly.
Not enough to open.
But enough to bleed.
A single golden thread slithered through the gap and hovered in the air, like a glowing vein. Serida's instincts screamed at her to run.
The Crown touched it with one finger.
And the room shuddered.
For a heartbeat, they all saw it:
A vision of Kael, older than time, wearing a mantle of spiraling runes, eyes filled with fire — standing at the Core's heart, not resisting it, but guiding it. Hands raised, shaping something not of this world.
A world remade.
A world rewritten.
Then the vision vanished.
Serida staggered, her heart racing.
"What… what was that?"
"A glimpse," the Crown said. "Of what could be. Or what has already happened. Time inside the Core isn't linear. It's memory-based. If Kael accepts the Core's will, he will become it."
"And if he resists?" Ashbourne asked.
"Then it will tear him apart and build a new shell."
Serida gritted her teeth. "So it's already decided."
"No," the Crown said. "It's not the Core that decides. It's you."
Serida looked up sharply.
"What?"
"You and Lira complete the triad. Together, you can reach him — before he slips too far. If you can connect, you might anchor him. Pull him out. Remind him who he was before the guilt."
Serida's hand clenched around her blade.
"And if I fail?"
The Crown looked genuinely sad.
"Then we all vanish. Past. Present. Future. Folded into a single being with no soul. Just purpose."
A pause.
Then she added, "And you will remember it all — forever."
The gate pulsed again. Now the spiral lock throbbed with every breath.
Serida closed her eyes.
In her mind, Kael stood alone in a chasm of mirrors. His voice was distant, calling names he hadn't spoken in centuries.
Lira.
Serin.
Serida.
She opened her eyes.
"Then I'm going in."
The Crown didn't stop her.