Aiden couldn't speak.
Not when the woman before him—
the one he'd buried in the last timeline,
the one he'd mourned through an apocalypse,
the one who taught him how to survive the impossible—
stepped out of the Cradle's darkness like a breath resurrected.
Her eyes flickered with violet fractures that didn't belong to any living human.
Her outline shimmered at the edges,
like she was caught halfway between a memory and a manifestation.
But her voice—
Her voice was exactly the same.
"Aiden."
A soft exhale.
"You're late."
Lyra's fingers tightened around his sleeve.
Rowan whispered, "Holy moons…"
Aiden took a step forward, throat tightening.
"…Marian?"
She smiled faintly.
"You remember."
Aiden swallowed. "You died."
She sighed.
"Yes. I remember that part too."
Her body flickered—briefly transparent—before stabilizing. The Cradle hummed around her, reacting to her presence like a dormant machine recognizing an old operator.
Lyra stepped closer cautiously.
"Aiden… who is she?"
Aiden didn't look away from Marian.
"My mentor," he said softly. "Marian Vale. The strongest regressor of the last timeline."
Rowan blinked. "There were more?"
Aiden nodded. "Not many. And none as good as her."
Marian tilted her head, amusement flickering across fractured eyes.
"You flatter me."
"It's the truth," Aiden said quietly. "You saved my life more times than I can count."
"Then I suppose it's fitting I save it once more."
Aiden's chest tightened.
"What do you mean?"
Marian lifted a finger—
and the Cradle _shifted_.
Lights flickered along the walls—
ancient technology awakening,
runes shifting,
plates grinding into new configurations.
Lyra gasped as a circular chamber lit up behind Marian, pulsing with faint blue energy.
Rowan braced himself. "What is this place really?"
Marian answered without turning.
"The original shadow laboratory. The first attempt at containing what would eventually become the parasite."
Aiden stiffened. "You knew about it?"
"I discovered it in the last timeline," she said. "But too late to use it."
Her eyes dimmed at the edges.
"Too late to save myself."
Lyra stepped forward slowly.
"But you're here now."
Marian looked at her—
really looked—
and her expression shifted into something deeper, heavier.
"And you must be the Anchor."
Lyra hesitated. "You can… feel that?"
Marian smiled faintly.
"I can feel the resonance in your chest. Stable. Compassionate. Dangerous. Anchors always frighten the cycle—they represent variables outside its control."
Lyra swallowed.
Aiden placed a hand on her back.
"Why are you here, Marian?" he asked.
Her gaze sharpened with purpose.
"I was waiting for you."
The Cradle dimmed as Marian stepped further into the chamber, motioning for them to follow. The runes on the ground glowed faintly under Aiden's feet as he entered—responding to his parasite's signature.
Lyra stayed close behind him, her Anchor Core humming with quiet resistance.
Rowan trailed last, blade drawn, eyes scanning every corner.
Marian stood at the center of a circular platform.
"When I died," she began, "I didn't pass on. Not completely."
Aiden felt his heart lurch.
Marian touched her chest.
"My consciousness was absorbed into the Cradle during my final experiment. A fragment of me survived here—in this machine."
Lyra whispered, "You're… a recording?"
Marian met her eyes gently.
"A recording doesn't think. Doesn't adapt. Doesn't _hurt._"
Lyra froze.
Aiden inhaled sharply.
"You're autonomous."
Marian nodded.
"I'm what the Cradle calls a spectral echo. A residual being formed from paradox energy and memory. Not alive, but not dead."
Rowan muttered, "This city keeps getting worse."
Marian turned back to Aiden.
"I knew you would return one day. Regression always leaves a mark on the world. The last timeline wasn't your final one."
Aiden stepped forward.
"Why me?"
"Because you're the first host the parasite truly _chose_," Marian said. "Not infected. Chosen."
The parasite stirred uneasily.
Aiden felt cold.
Marian continued:
"And because the Echo fears you."
Lyra flinched.
Aiden went still.
Rowan blinked. "The Echo—the final version of Aiden—fears… Aiden?"
"Yes," Marian said.
"Because you broke the cycle once already. And because you are capable of becoming something it cannot predict."
Lyra whispered, "What's that?"
Marian looked at her.
"A regressor with an Anchor."
The Cradle hummed loudly, as if agreeing.
Marian stepped toward Aiden, her flickering form stabilizing with each movement.
"You want answers," she said. "So listen."
Aiden's breath held.
"The Echo isn't the future version of you," Marian said.
"Not exactly."
Aiden frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The Echo is the parasite's final evolution _using_ your body. Your memories. Your emotions. Your life. But stripped of everything that makes them yours."
Aiden felt his stomach twist.
Lyra stepped closer, her hand slipping into his.
Rowan whispered, "So the Echo is a parasite wearing him like armor?"
Marian nodded.
"The Echo is what happens when the host loses all anchors. All humanity. All identity."
Her eyes softened.
"In the last timeline, Aiden… you came close."
He stiffened.
Lyra tightened her grip.
"But you didn't become it," Marian said.
"You resisted until the very end. And that's why the Echo hates you now."
Aiden swallowed hard.
"What does it want?"
"To correct the cycle," Marian said.
"To remove the version of you that diverged. To ensure you become it—properly, completely, inevitably."
Lyra whispered, "No."
Marian smiled at her.
"That's why he needs you."
Aiden felt something crack gently inside him.
"Marian…"
She reached out—
her spectral hand passing through his shoulder like cold wind.
"You broke fate once. You can break it again. But only if you evolve on your own terms—not the parasite's, and not the Echo's."
"How?" Aiden whispered. "Tell me how to stop it."
Marian stepped back toward the core of the Cradle.
"You'll need power the Echo can't anticipate. Power outside the cycle."
She placed her hand on a glowing console.
And the Cradle awakened fully.
Blue light surged through the walls, the runes, the floor—
lighting up the chamber like a rising star.
Lyra covered her eyes.
Rowan cursed.
Aiden stood unmoving.
Marian turned to him, her silhouette framed in white-blue light.
"Aiden Crowe," she said softly.
"You must awaken your **true Mutation Tree.**"
Aiden's breath caught.
"And to do that—"
Marian smiled, bittersweet and proud.
"—you'll have to survive the Cradle's trials."
The room vibrated with an ancient pulse—slow, heavy, rhythmic—like a heartbeat belonging to something older than the city, older than the cycle, older than even the parasite itself.
Aiden recognized the sensation instinctively.
The Cradle was waking up.
Its walls hummed with layered frequencies, each tone sharp enough to cut silence, soft enough to sink into the bones of anyone standing in the chamber. Lyra leaned into Aiden, steadying herself as her Anchor Core flickered with faint reflexive light.
Rowan was not so calm.
"Okay," he breathed, staring upward as glowing blue lines spiderwebbed across the ceiling, "I have one question."
Aiden glanced at him. "What?"
Rowan pointed wildly at the shimmering runes now crawling across the floor.
"Who in their right mind builds a training facility inside a reality hazard?!"
Aiden didn't look away from Marian.
"Someone who knew what was coming."
Marian stepped toward a massive cylindrical pillar rising from the room's center. The cylinder pulsed like a beating heart, as if responding to her presence.
"Aiden," she said, eyes softening, "I didn't bring you here so you could die. I brought you here so you could become something the Echo can't erase."
Lyra's fingers tightened around Aiden's arm.
"What does that mean?" Lyra asked. "What kind of… mutation is this?"
Marian met her gaze.
"The Cradle doesn't mutate your parasite. It mutates _you._"
Aiden felt a chill run down his spine.
"Me?"
"Yes," Marian said. "All your previous evolutions have been parasite-focused—strengthening its claws, its instincts, its hunger. But the Echo perfected those lines already. That path makes you predictable."
Rowan grimaced.
"Predictable isn't great when a cosmic demigod wants you dead."
Lyra swallowed hard.
"So what does the Cradle do?"
Marian lifted her hand.
The pillar split open.
A circular pool of glowing liquid shadow swirled inside—shimmering violet and silver, its surface rippling with unseen currents.
Lyra clung to Aiden like she could feel the wrongness radiating from it.
Aiden felt it too.
It was familiar.
Too familiar.
Marian gestured at the pool.
"The Cradle awakens the Shadow-Parasite's original purpose—before the cycle corrupted it. Before evolution was weaponized. Before regressors were hunted."
Aiden's breath hitched.
"There was… an original purpose?"
Marian nodded slowly.
"Yes. The parasite wasn't made to consume memories. It wasn't made to hollow hosts or create singularities. It was born for something far older—something that terrifies the Echo."
Lyra leaned forward. "What is it?"
Marian's violet-fractured eyes shone.
**"Harmony."**
Aiden blinked. "Harmony with what?"
"Yourself," Marian replied.
"Your past. Your memories. Your emotional core. Your identity. The parasite was meant to amplify you—not replace you."
Lyra covered her mouth.
"The Echo is what happens when the parasite wins."
"Yes," Marian said.
"And the Cradle's mutation is what happens when _the host wins._"
Aiden's fingers curled.
"That's what the Echo fears."
Marian smiled gently.
"The Cradle makes regression complete. Not fractured. Not broken. Not parasitic. You will evolve into something the cycle cannot predict."
Rowan exhaled shakily.
"Cool. Great. Evolution that terrifies a cosmic Titan. No pressure."
Aiden didn't smile.
He stepped closer to the shimmering pool.
"Kai told me once," Aiden whispered, remembering a fragment of a last-timeline conversation, "that the parasite couldn't be controlled—that its will was stronger than any host."
Marian's expression darkened.
"Kai was wrong. Or rather—he was not given the opportunity you now have."
Lyra frowned.
"The Cradle gives Aiden control?"
"No." Marian shook her head.
"The Cradle gives Aiden a **choice**."
The pool pulsed.
Aiden stared into its depths—
seeing not just shifting shadow,
but flashes of his own memories—
Lyra's smile.
Her scream on the final night.
Marian's death.
The burning sky.
The Harbinger's roar.
His own voice crying out in grief.
All looping.
All converging.
Lyra reached for him.
"Aiden… you don't have to do this alone."
Aiden turned to her, brushing a thumb across her cheek.
"I know."
Rowan planted himself next to them.
"And if anything inside that puddle tries to eat you—just yell. I'll stab the water. Or die trying."
Aiden actually almost laughed.
Marian stepped forward and placed a hand over the pool.
Her voice softened into something he hadn't heard in two lifetimes.
"Aiden Crowe. You are not here to fight your parasite. You are here to reconcile with the part of yourself you lost."
Aiden's breath caught.
"The part of me I lost…?"
Marian nodded.
"The boy who died long before the world ended."
Aiden closed his eyes.
Lyra squeezed his hand.
And the Cradle pulsed…
Aiden stepped toward the pool as its surface stilled.
The shadows went quiet—waiting, listening, anticipating him like a returning master.
Or a returning mistake.
Lyra held his wrist one last time before he moved beyond reach.
"Aiden," she whispered, "don't forget who you are."
He managed a thin, tired smile.
"I won't. You're my reminder."
Color bloomed faintly across her cheeks.
Rowan pretended not to notice, choosing instead to glare at the pool like it owed him money.
Marian stood beside the liquid shadow, her fractured form flickering in and out of solidity as the Cradle fed on her presence.
"When you enter," she said, "you will find yourself face-to-face with every version of you the parasite has ever projected. Some real. Some imagined. Some born from fear, some from desire."
Her tone sharpened.
"Choose carefully which ones you believe."
Aiden exhaled.
"And what happens if I pick wrong?"
"The Cradle will consume what remains of your identity," Marian said gently.
"And the Echo will claim what's left."
Lyra's grip tightened.
Rowan muttered, "No pressure."
Aiden stepped to the pool's edge.
It shimmered with violet-silver gradients that rippled like ink dissolving into water.
Marian raised a hand.
"The moment your foot touches the surface, the Cradle begins the Extraction Sequence."
Lyra shivered.
"What's that?"
"His regression memories," Marian said, "will be pulled out and made manifest."
Rowan blinked.
"Manifest as in… illusions?"
"No," Marian said.
"Bodies."
Lyra gasped.
Aiden's chest went cold.
"I'm going to fight versions of myself."
Marian nodded.
"And talk to them. And run from them. And forgive them."
She paused.
"And in one case… kill one."
Lyra stared at Aiden, horror forming in her voice.
"Kill… yourself?"
"Not him," Marian said softly.
"The version of him that the Echo wants him to become."
Aiden shut his eyes.
He could already feel that version waiting for him in the dark.
A shape with his face.
His shadows.
His voice.
But none of his heart.
The Echo.
Aiden inhaled.
Then stepped into the pool.
The surface didn't ripple.
It swallowed.
Cold surged up his boots, crawling along his legs, dragging him downward with a slow, inevitable pull. Not drowning—descending. The way a stone sinks into the deepest part of a lake.
Lyra's hand reached out—
"Aiden—!"
Aiden's voice muffled as the shadows reached his waist.
"I'll be—fine—"
But his voice broke.
Not because he was afraid.
Because Lyra looked like she was losing him all over again.
Rowan caught her shoulder.
"He'll come back," Rowan said firmly. "He always comes back."
Marian's fractured form flickered.
"No," she whispered.
"Only if he wins."
Aiden sank beneath the surface.
The world inverted.
Light died.
Sound evaporated.
And Aiden fell—
He hit solid ground.
Aiden gasped, looking up.
He stood in a vast circular void, larger than any structure should physically allow—
the Cradle's internal dimension.
Fog covered the floor like a soft blanket over dead earth. Above him, a single starless sky stretched without an end.
A voice whispered behind him.
"Aiden Crowe."
Aiden spun—
And saw himself.
But younger.
Maybe 15.
Eyes brighter.
Laugh quieter.
Innocence unbroken.
The boy stood barefoot in the mist, staring at him with fear and wonder.
Aiden felt something twist inside.
"I remember you…" Aiden whispered.
The boy version swallowed.
"You left me."
Aiden staggered.
"I—what?"
"You left me," the boy repeated.
"When the world started falling apart. When Mom died. When everything hurt. You stopped being me."
Aiden's breath hitched.
This was the version of him before survival hardened him.
Before regression swallowed him.
Before the parasite corrupted him.
The boy took a step forward.
"Why didn't you want to be me anymore?"
Aiden kneels down slowly.
His voice broke.
"I didn't want you to see the world I lived through."
A breath.
"And I'm sorry for abandoning you."
The mist swirled.
The boy smiled.
"I forgive you."
He dissolved into light.
Aiden exhaled, trembling.
One echo down.
The mist thickened again.
A figure formed—a young man in his early twenties, confident, eyes sharp, shadows under control.
Aiden recognized him instantly.
His strongest past self.
"You forgot our promise," the young man said.
Aiden grit his teeth.
"I didn't forget."
"You did," the young man said.
"You swore never to trust another person again. You swore never to love again. You swore never to hesitate again."
Aiden straightened.
"I was wrong."
The young man's eyes narrowed.
"You'll get hurt."
"I already did."
"You'll lose her."
Aiden smiled sadly.
"Maybe. But I'd rather lose her loving her… than lose myself fearing her."
The young man went still.
Then he bowed his head.
"You've changed."
Aiden met his gaze.
"So have you."
The young man dissolved.
The mist surged again—
But this time it didn't form a shape.
It formed a crack.
In the center of the dimension.
A fissure of shimmering silver-violet light.
A voice drifted out:
**"…Aiden…"**
Aiden froze.
That voice—
His voice.
Older.
Colder.
Broken beyond recognition.
The Echo.
A silhouette stepped out—
Aiden's height.
Aiden's build.
Aiden's shadows.
But his eyes…
Empty.
The Echo smiled.
"Aiden Crowe," it said softly.
"How nice of you to come home."
Aiden's mantle flared, instinct roaring through him.
"I'm not you."
The Echo tilted its head.
"Not yet."
Aiden glared.
"I came here to take back what you stole."
"I stole nothing," the Echo said calmly.
"You surrendered everything long before I was born."
Aiden stepped forward.
"Then I'll take it back."
The Echo's smile widened.
"Try."
Shadows flooded the chamber.
The ground cracked.
The Cradle's dimension shuddered—
And Aiden charged toward the version of himself he refused to become.