The moons dimmed.
Not fully—just enough that every shadow in Twin-Moon Metropolis stretched a few inches too long, bent at angles that didn't align with their owners, and flickered with a faint violet undertone that did **not** belong to natural light.
Aiden felt the shift in his bones.
Rowan noticed it next.
Lyra noticed it last—but when she did, her hand curled instinctively into Aiden's sleeve, her Anchor Core reacting with a protective hum.
Aiden kept his voice steady.
"Stay close to me. Both of you."
Rowan's jaw tensed. "What does this mean?"
Aiden swallowed.
"It means the Echo isn't sending monsters this time."
He scanned the rooftops.
"It's sending something smarter."
Lyra's breath hitched. "Smarter than the Harbinger?"
Aiden nodded grimly.
"The Harbinger was a brute-force weapon. The Envoy is different. It talks. It negotiates. It lies."
Rowan frowned. "Why would something that wants to destroy us negotiate?"
Aiden's answer came low and sharp.
"Because it doesn't want to destroy us. It wants to _correct_ us."
Lyra's fingers tightened.
"Aiden… what if it tries to talk to you?"
He didn't answer.
Because he already felt the answer rising in the air around them—
a ripple, a distortion, a soft vibration under his feet.
A warning.
A summons.
The distortion appeared on the far end of the alley—
not a tear, not a fracture, but a ripple of light bending downward into the shape of a doorway.
The doorway flickered.
Silver.
Violet.
Shadow-black.
Like three versions of reality trying to occupy the same outline.
A figure stepped through.
Not monstrous.
Not skeletal.
Not alien.
A **person**.
Aiden's breath stopped.
It was a young woman—barefoot, wearing a cloak of silver threads that shimmered like rain. Her hair fell in strands of black and moonlight, her eyes glowing with a faint violet ring.
She looked human.
But her presence felt like standing next to a ticking star.
Lyra's Anchor Core vibrated violently, pulling her closer to Aiden's chest.
Rowan's hand went to his blade.
The Envoy lifted a hand in a gentle gesture.
"No need for fear," she said softly. "I am not here to harm you."
Aiden stepped in front of Lyra.
"Envoy."
Her lips curved.
"Aiden Crowe. The Last Regression. The one the cycle is… concerned… about."
Aiden's jaw tightened.
"I'm not playing your game."
"You are already in it," she murmured.
Rowan stepped forward. "State your purpose."
The Envoy glanced at him with amused curiosity—like someone watching a puppy bark at thunder.
"I was not speaking to you."
Aiden raised a hand.
"Envoy. Say what you came to say."
She nodded, meeting his eyes.
"I bring a message from the Echo."
Lyra tensed.
Rowan swore quietly.
Aiden forced his voice to stay stable.
"What message?"
The Envoy's smile was gentle.
And chilling.
"Stop resisting."
Aiden's mantle flared violently behind him.
"No."
The Envoy tilted her head.
"You do not understand. The cycle is not punishing you. It is guiding you. You were meant to return. You were meant to evolve. You were meant to complete your transformation."
Aiden took a step forward, shadows rising like snarling beasts.
"You mean become him."
The Envoy's expression softened with something like sympathy.
"Become _yourself._ The version of you who perfected the parasite. The version of you who achieved Singularity. The version of you who saved what could be saved."
Aiden's fists curled.
"You destroyed the world."
"The world was already doomed," she said calmly. "The Echo lessened the suffering."
Aiden's voice cracked with fury.
"You turned the sky into a graveyard."
The Envoy blinked slowly.
"You survived. That alone proves the Echo's method was correct."
Lyra stepped forward despite Aiden's warning grip.
"No." Her voice trembled, but her gaze didn't. "He didn't survive. He died. And then he came back. _That_ is why he's here."
The Envoy studied Lyra.
"The Anchor. How curious."
Lyra swallowed but didn't back down.
"You said the cycle is guiding him. But he doesn't want your future. And neither do I."
The Envoy smiled faintly.
"You speak as though choice exists."
Aiden moved in front of Lyra again.
"Envoy," he said coldly. "If you're here to recruit me, you're wasting your time."
The Envoy's expression didn't change.
"I am not here to recruit you," she said.
"I am here to warn you."
Aiden froze.
"Warn me?"
She nodded.
"The Harbinger was sent to test your incomplete evolution. You passed… but barely. The Echo is concerned that your progress is behind schedule."
Aiden's breath hitched.
Lyra grabbed his hand.
Rowan stepped closer, tense.
"What happens," Aiden asked slowly, "if I stay behind schedule?"
The Envoy's answer chilled the world.
"Then the Echo will correct you."
Aiden felt something sharp twist in his chest.
Rowan raised his voice. "And what does 'correct' mean?"
The Envoy looked directly at him, eyes bright and empty.
"It means erase this version of Aiden Crowe and revert the cycle to the intended timeline."
Lyra gasped.
Aiden didn't move.
Rowan's hand went to his blade.
Aiden's voice came out quiet and lethal.
"You're threatening my existence."
"Not threatening," she corrected, almost kindly. "Informing."
Aiden's mantle flared.
"Well inform the Echo of this—"
He stepped forward, shadows swirling around him like a rising storm.
"I'm not dying a second time."
The Envoy's smile softened.
"Then evolve, Aiden Crowe. Evolve quickly. Because if you fall behind again…"
She raised her hand.
The alley darkened.
Silence fell.
And her final whisper wrapped around his throat like a noose.
**"The Echo will take back what belongs to him."**
Then her body dissolved into silver dust and drifted upward—
toward the fractured moons.
Silence hung in the alley long after the Envoy dissolved into drifting silver dust. It coated the air like frost, shimmering faintly before fading into the night. The glow of it stuck to Aiden's skin, crawling along his mantle, whispering with faint echoes that didn't belong to this world.
Aiden didn't move.
Couldn't.
The Envoy's words were still twisting inside his skull.
**"Erase this version of Aiden Crowe."
"Revert the cycle."
"Take back what belongs to him."**
Rowan was the first to speak.
"Aiden… you okay?"
Stupid question. But Rowan's voice wasn't steady, either.
Aiden exhaled slowly, forcing the tremble out of his hands.
"No," he said simply.
Rowan nodded, grim. "Figured."
Lyra stepped closer—hesitant, unsure whether touching him would help or hurt—but she placed a hand on his arm anyway.
Aiden looked at her.
Her Anchor Core still glowed faintly beneath her skin, responding to his instability.
He steadied.
Lyra whispered, "You're not behind. Not anymore. You survived the Harbinger. You resisted the fracture. You protected me."
Aiden shook his head.
"That's the problem. Surviving isn't enough. I'm supposed to be evolving into something the Echo expects—and I'm not."
Rowan raised an eyebrow. "And thank the moons for that. Last thing this world needs is another Echo—especially a teenage one."
Aiden didn't smile.
Lyra tightened her grip on his sleeve.
"What if evolving the way they want is exactly what turns you into him?" she asked quietly.
Aiden stared at the spot where the Envoy had vanished.
"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."
The sky flickered again—
but this time, it wasn't violent.
It was deliberate.
As if the moons themselves were… watching.
Lyra shuddered.
"I hate that," she whispered. "It feels like the moons are staring at us."
Rowan inhaled sharply. "They are."
Lyra looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"The Envoy came through a stabilized light arc," Rowan said. "Those arcs only form when something on the other side is focusing directly on our world. The Echo… it's watching. Right now."
Lyra instinctively moved closer to Aiden, who stepped protectively in front of her.
Aiden's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
"Let him watch."
Rowan frowned. "Crowe—"
Aiden met the moons with a glare sharp enough to cut steel.
"You hear me?" he muttered under his breath. "You don't get to decide who I become. Not again."
Lyra's Anchor Core pulsed softly, amplifying his resolve.
Rowan finally exhaled. "Okay. So we're officially on the Echo's hit list. What's the play?"
Aiden didn't answer immediately.
Because the parasite answered first:
**EVOLUTION REQUIRED.
PROGRESS INSUFFICIENT.
CYCLE ADVANCING WITHOUT HOST.**
Aiden rubbed a hand across his face.
"Yeah, I know."
Lyra frowned. "Know what?"
Aiden looked at her—really looked.
Her breathing was still unsteady.
Her hands still trembled from the awakening.
The memory-bleed still lingered behind her eyes.
He couldn't drag her into this.
But she was already in it.
"Lyra," he said quietly, "you need training. Anchor training. And fast."
Rowan nodded. "She's powerful. More powerful than any natural Anchor. But uncontrolled resonance is a risk. To her—and to you."
Lyra straightened her shoulders.
"I want to learn."
Aiden felt something warm tighten behind his ribs.
"You will," he said. "But not here."
Rowan raised a brow. "Then where?"
Aiden's gaze drifted toward the east side of the city.
The abandoned spire towered above the skyline—the one no Guild dared to approach since the first Extinction premonitions. The one that once formed the foundation of the world's earliest anti-Rift experiments.
The Forgotten Cradle.
Aiden pointed.
"There."
Rowan nearly choked. "There?! Aiden, that place is basically a haunted bunker with a side job as a spatial hazard."
"Exactly," Aiden said. "Which means the Envoy won't follow us inside. The Echo can't anchor through the Cradle."
Lyra shivered. "Why?"
"Because the Cradle was built before the cycle existed."
His eyes dimmed.
"Before the Echo was born."
Rowan rubbed his temples. "So your plan is to hide the Anchor and the most unstable regressor in a suicidal relic that hates all living things?"
"Yes," Aiden said.
"Because the alternative is death."
Rowan threw his hands up. "Fine, perfect, flawless plan—love that for us."
Lyra managed a tiny laugh.
Aiden didn't.
He was watching the moons.
Because the violet rings around them were tightening
—slowly—
predictably—
purposefully.
A timer.
A countdown.
The Envoy's final warning wasn't a metaphor.
The Echo was giving him time.
Not mercy.
A deadline.
Aiden whispered under his breath:
"I won't let you erase me."
Lyra slipped her fingers back into his.
"You won't," she said softly. "Because we'll face this together."
Rowan sighed. "Guess I'm coming too."
Aiden looked at him, surprised.
Rowan shrugged. "Look, if the world's ending early, I'd rather not die alone."
Aiden turned toward the Forgotten Cradle.
Shadows gathered under his feet.
Lyra's Anchor Core flared.
Rowan's Guild sigil glowed.
And the fractured moons watched.
Aiden took a breath.
"Then let's move."
The wind shifted as Aiden, Lyra, and Rowan moved through the city. It wasn't natural wind—it carried static, faint vibrations, little ripples of wrongness that followed the trio like curious, invisible insects.
People in the streets looked shaken but unaware of the cosmic threat overhead. The Guild had already deployed misinformation drones, projecting calming holograms into the sky:
**MOONFLARE EVENT.
NO DANGER.
STAY INDOORS.
AVOID PANIC.**
Aiden scoffed under his breath.
"Covering the truth with pretty lies," he muttered. "Classic Guild strategy."
Rowan shot him a look.
"It works."
"For who?"
"The masses," Rowan said. "Not regressors, anchors, or ticking catastrophes like you."
Aiden grunted. "Fair."
Lyra stayed between them, walking carefully, one hand still gripping Aiden's coat. She was steady—more steady than she should have been after awakening an Anchor Core—but every few minutes the faint glow at her sternum pulsed, reminding Aiden that they were racing a clock no one else could see.
The moons flickered again.
Aiden glanced up.
The violet rings weren't fading.
They were tightening.
Like the iris of an enormous eye focusing on a target.
Lyra followed his gaze.
"Aiden… is that watching us?"
He didn't lie.
"Yes."
She breathed out shakily. "Good. Then let it watch me walk away from its future."
Aiden almost smiled. Almost.
But his attention snapped forward as the city grew quieter, darker, more abandoned. Buildings looked skeletal here—half-renovated, half-condemned, all forgotten. This district wasn't mapped in Guild routes anymore.
Rowan slowed beside them.
"Crowe… we're entering the banned zone."
Aiden nodded. "Good."
Lyra frowned. "Why is it banned?"
Rowan answered before Aiden could.
"Because every sensor the Guild sent into the Forgotten Cradle either went blind or came back fried beyond recognition. And one team… didn't come back at all."
Lyra stiffened slightly.
Rowan added, "S-so, uh, yeah. That's where we're going."
Aiden kept walking.
Lyra followed without hesitation.
Rowan cursed under his breath and followed too.
The Forgotten Cradle rose above them like a tower built out of broken timelines.
Its structure wasn't symmetrical—every floor twisted at a slightly different angle, like it had been constructed during an earthquake that never ended. The entrance was sealed with rusted metal plates stamped with Guild warnings.
Rowan read aloud:
"**DO NOT ENTER.
REALITY INSTABILITY ZONE.
TEMPORAL COLLAPSE RISK.
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**"
He looked at Aiden.
"You want to walk into a _temporal collapse zone_?"
Aiden shrugged. "Better than letting the Echo rewrite me."
Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I'm going to die. I'm going to die because I followed the idiot who fights Harbingers at Tier-1."
"You're not going to die," Aiden muttered.
"Really? Because the last guy who said that to me ended up—"
Aiden stopped suddenly, placing a hand on Rowan's chest to silence him.
Rowan froze. "What? What is it?"
Aiden pointed at the door.
It was open.
A slit—barely wide enough for a hand—but definitely open.
Rowan's eyes widened.
"Someone went inside."
Aiden nodded.
"And recently."
Lyra grabbed his sleeve.
"Aiden… is it the Envoy?"
"No," Aiden said.
"She doesn't enter places she doesn't control."
"Then who?" Rowan whispered.
Aiden paused.
He didn't know.
And that scared him more than anything yet.
He stepped forward first.
"Stay close," he whispered.
Lyra tightened her grip on his coat.
Rowan activated his Guild sigil, casting a faint blue light that pulsed every few seconds.
Aiden pushed the metal door open.
It scraped like bone against stone.
The darkness inside swallowed the sound.
And Aiden felt something familiar.
Something ancient.
A pull.
Not from the Echo.
Not from the parasite.
Something older than both.
Lyra gasped softly beside him.
"Aiden… do you feel that?"
He nodded slowly.
"Yes."
"What is it?"
He stared into the Cradle's abyss.
"A heartbeat," he whispered.
Rowan shivered.
"Heartbeat of _what_?"
Aiden stepped inside.
"The first Shadow Core."
The interior was colder than the night outside—cold like a tomb. Their footsteps echoed far too loudly for a space this tight, bouncing back at strange angles, repeating in ways that didn't match their stride.
The walls were lined with metal plates etched with runes Aiden didn't recognize—but the parasite did.
**ANCIENT SHADOW PATTERN DETECTED.
PRE-CYCLE ARCHITECTURE.
DANGER: UNMEASURABLE.**
Lyra clutched Aiden's hand.
"Aiden… something's watching us."
Rowan stiffened.
"Where?"
Lyra pointed ahead.
A corridor stretched into darkness.
Too dark.
Even Aiden's shadow-sight couldn't penetrate it.
Aiden lowered his voice.
"This place was a laboratory before Moonfall was even theorized. They built the first containment chambers here. The first shadow experiments. The first prototypes of systems that later evolved into—"
He stopped.
Lyra looked up at him.
"Aiden?"
He didn't answer.
Because something just whispered in the dark:
**"…you returned…"**
Lyra gasped.
Rowan stepped back, weapon raised.
Aiden's shadow flared.
The voice came again—
soft, broken, familiar.
**"…Aiden Crowe…"**
Aiden's blood turned cold.
He knew that voice.
He'd heard it in the last timeline.
A woman's voice.
One he'd never expected to hear again.
Not here.
Not like this.
Lyra looked terrified.
"Aiden… who is that?"
He swallowed.
"…My mentor."
Rowan blinked. "Your what?"
Aiden whispered:
"My mentor from the last timeline. The one who helped me survive Moonfall."
Lyra stared at him.
"She died."
Aiden nodded.
"Yes."
Rowan's voice cracked.
"Then how the hell is she _here_?!"
Aiden stepped toward the darkness.
"I don't know."
The shadows parted.
And a woman stepped out—
hair white as moonlight, eyes cracked with violet fractures, skin flickering like an unstable projection.
"Aiden," she whispered.
"You're late."