The statue loomed in silence.
The girl was gone—no footsteps, no echoes, just absence. Even the light from the stained glass seemed dimmer now. Kairo stood there, hand clenched over his shoulder, watching the shadow she'd vanished into like it might open again.
It didn't.
He took one breath. Then another. The pain in his body dulled, replaced by something colder. Not fear. Not exhaustion.
Something emptier.
He turned.
The cathedral doors had vanished.
Not closed—vanished. In their place stood smooth, seamless wall. The pews were gone. The stained glass windows had turned gray. The world around him faded, pixel by pixel, like an old memory dissolving in reverse.
The system pulsed again.
[DEATH SIGNATURE REGISTERED]
[PROTOCOL FLAG: VOID TRANSFER]
[EXISTENCE: TEMPORARILY NULLIFIED]
"What—"
But he didn't finish the thought.
Because the floor dropped.
He didn't fall.
He ceased.
It wasn't like the first time.
The first time was dark. Empty.
This was worse.
The void this time had sound. Soft, whispering laughter—female, amused, cruel. Shapes moved in the black, just barely out of sight. And in the center of it all: a flickering lantern hanging from a chain, swaying in wind that didn't exist.
Under the lantern stood a girl.
Not the one from the cathedral.
This one looked... older. Seventeen, maybe. Slender. Pale skin that seemed almost luminous. Her hair was snow-white, long and straight, spilling down her back like water. Her eyes were black—not dark, but black like ink spilled into glass. No whites. No irises. Just void.
And she was smiling.
"You're slower than the last version," she said softly, tilting her head. "But less suicidal. That's an upgrade."
Kairo tried to speak, but the void swallowed his voice.
She raised one hand.
The sound returned.
His breath rushed back into his lungs.
He coughed once. "Who... are you?"
"Does it matter?" she asked. "You'll forget soon enough."
He narrowed his eyes. "You're another system ghost?"
"No." Her smile faded. "I'm not a glitch."
A pause.
Then: "I'm Lira. I watch what the system tries to erase. And I watch you every time you die."
Kairo stared at her.
His voice came lower this time. "So I'm dead again?"
"Sort of." She walked around him slowly, bare feet silent against the void. "Not fully. You're... between. A kill-switch stuttered. Something in your loop tried to rewrite too early. System couldn't handle it."
He exhaled. "Then fix it."
She stopped behind him.
"You think it's broken."She leaned in. "It's not."
Silence.
Then she whispered:
"It's lying."
Kairo turned.
"What?"
Lira's eyes glinted.
"The Rebirth Protocol isn't a resurrection tool. It's a filter. A weapon. Every time you die, it strips away parts of you that don't serve the narrative anymore. Memories. Connections. Fear. Regret. Eventually, it turns you into something the system wants."
"That's impossible," he said.
She smiled again, too gently. "Is it? Do you remember your real name?"
He froze.
She stepped closer, placing two fingers lightly on his forehead.
The void pulsed.
And in that pulse—he saw flickers.
A woman screaming again. A ring of fire. A boy with silver eyes laughing as Kairo begged him not to go. A name written in blood on a white wall.
And a mirror.
Always a mirror.
Then it vanished.
He staggered back, breath ragged. "What... was that?"
"Just a crack," she said. "One of many. You've lived seven loops. Some longer than others. Some... much worse."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because one of those lives," she said, "you promised me you'd kill the system."
He stared at her, heart hammering.
"And?"
She reached up to the flickering lantern and held it still.
Then smiled, this time not cruel.
"Because I think this time, you might actually do it."