Aelius stared at the sky, still shimmering with the fading light of the Primogenitor's departure.
His face was pale, but his grip on the scythe was steady.
"Did we… survive that?"
Lyra coughed beside him, brushing ash off her armor.Her lips twitched. "Barely. But the sky didn't."
Above them, constellations began to realign—impossible symbols blooming like veins across the stars.
Suddenly—the signal pulsed again.
A high-pitched resonance drilled through their skulls.
"Incoming transmission. Echo Code: Class Δ.""Match found: Parallel Echoes in 14 Systems.""Broadcasting Activation Pulse."
Aelius dropped to one knee.
The voice wasn't from outside—it was inside his mind, inside his blood.
He saw flashes—
A girl with silver eyes screaming inside a glass coffin.A man with golden circuitry carved into his back.A child floating in zero gravity, fingers etched with language.
They were like him.
Not alone.Never alone.
"They've all been waiting.For someone to break the silence."
