The first explosion wasn't sound at all.
It was **pressure**—a sudden shift in the air that made Aiden's ribs tighten and Lyra stumble as the floor bucked under them. Rowan swore, nearly losing his footing as a shockwave rattled through the Cradle's decaying dimension.
Aiden tightened his grip on Lyra's hand.
"Don't stop! The exit is collapsing!"
Lyra forced herself forward, her breath sharp, her Anchor Core pulsing in rhythmic bursts that illuminated the trembling corridor. The light from her resonance painted the fractured metal walls in silver streaks that rippled each time the Cradle groaned.
Rowan pointed ahead, shouting over the rising roar.
"Crowe! The path is shifting!"
He was right.
The hallway—straight a moment ago—bent sharply, metal twisting like a living serpent, forming new forks and closing old ones. The Cradle wasn't just falling apart; it was **reshaping itself** in its dying breaths.
Aiden's eyes darted across the changing geometry.
"It's trying to seal us in."
Lyra looked up, voice wavering.
"Why?"
Aiden felt the parasite inside him recoil at the answer he already knew.
"Because I took something from it."
Rowan jolted. "The mutation?"
"No," Aiden said quietly.
"The Echo's seat in the cycle."
Lyra's fingers tightened around his.
Another blast tore through the corridor—this one a bloom of blue light that vaporized a section of the ceiling, sending molten fragments raining down. Aiden flung up his mantle instinctively, shadows catching the debris before it hit them.
Rowan ducked, yelling, "Can you NOT do this today, Cradle?!"
The Cradle responded with another shudder that cracked the floor beneath them.
Aiden pulled Lyra upward.
"We have to move—RUN!"
They sprinted.
The corridor buckled behind them.
More cracks raced along the walls.
Energy pulses shot through the metal floor in violent bursts.
Lyra stumbled again as the ground pitched sideways, but Aiden scooped her up without slowing, shadows coiling around his ankles to stabilize each step.
She clung to his shoulders, voice trembling but steady.
"Aiden… what happens if the Cradle collapses while we're still inside?"
"Don't think about that," he said. "Just hold on."
Rowan ran behind them, blade drawn, half for balance and half to slice apart any debris in his path.
Another quake rippled beneath their feet.
Lyra gasped. "It's speeding up!"
Aiden didn't answer.
He already knew.
The Cradle wasn't dying randomly.
It was dying **angry**.
And it wanted to take its final intruders with it.
A holographic shimmer flickered near the turning corridor ahead—
a fractured silhouette struggling to stabilize.
Marian.
Lyra's breath hitched. "She's still here?"
Marian's outline flickered violently, pieces of her form breaking apart like shredded glass.
"I don't… have long," her voice crackled through distortion. "The Cradle's collapse is erasing my memory structure."
Aiden slowed just enough to meet her gaze.
"Marian—thank you. For everything."
She smiled—weak but warm.
"Don't waste the life I couldn't finish."
Rowan elbowed Aiden. "Tell her to give us directions before she fully disintegrates!"
Marian managed a pained laugh.
"Forward… left passage… avoid the light cracks… they fold space."
Aiden frowned. "Fold space into what?"
"Into nothing," Marian said.
Lyra paled.
Marian's form dimmed further.
"Aiden… your Harmony Core is still unstable. You must anchor it. She"—Marian looked at Lyra—"is the key. Stay close to her. Always."
Lyra's cheeks flushed, but her grip tightened.
Aiden nodded once.
Marian's final flicker shivered through the collapsing corridor.
"And Aiden…"
He stopped, heart twisting.
"You made me proud."
Her form dissolved into sparks—
blue, silver, violet—
each scattering into the rupturing air.
Lyra wiped a tear with trembling fingers.
Rowan whispered, softer than before, "Goodbye, Vale."
Aiden bowed his head for a single heartbeat.
Then—
Another explosion shook the hallway, and the moment shattered with it.
"MOVE!"
They reached the intersecting corridor Marian had pointed toward, only to find it listing at a sharp angle—half collapsed, metal beams jutting like ribs from a dying beast.
Aiden lowered Lyra, but kept her hand in his.
"Stay beside me. Don't let go."
Lyra nodded once, resolve deepening behind her trembling eyes.
Rowan surveyed the corridor.
"Okay, cool. So this is basically a death slide."
Aiden stepped onto the angled floor.
"Then slide."
He launched forward, shadows propelling him down the slick metal surface. Lyra followed; Aiden's mantle curled around her to stabilize her descent. Rowan skidded behind, yelling profanity the entire way.
They shot out the bottom of the slope into a cavernous chamber where the Cradle's core machinery stretched across multiple levels—massive gears grinding, huge conduits snapping with energy arcs, whole platforms collapsing and slamming into each other.
Lyra stared upward, stunned.
"This place… it wasn't meant to be seen."
Aiden nodded grimly.
"No. It was meant to contain."
Rowan coughed through the dust. "And now we're inside the world's angriest trash compactor!"
A snap echoed overhead—a huge suspended walkway broke loose, swinging down toward them like a pendulum.
Aiden grabbed Lyra and rolled out of the way. The walkway slammed into the floor where they'd been standing, gouging a crater.
Rowan leaped aside with seconds to spare.
The whole chamber trembled again.
Lyra clutched Aiden's arm.
"Aiden… I think it's accelerating to its final collapse."
He nodded.
"We're close. The exit should be—"
But the Cradle answered him first.
A massive rupture tore across the far end of the chamber—
a gash in space itself, its edges glowing white-hot.
A spatial collapse.
Rowan yelled, "WE CANNOT GO THROUGH THAT!"
Aiden's mantle surged violently, reacting to the tear.
"No," Aiden agreed. "We go around. Fast."
Lyra pointed upward through the dust. "There! The old maintenance ladders!"
The metal ladders were rusted, some broken entirely, others dangling. But they led toward a slanted service tunnel—one that pointed toward daylight.
Aiden's eyes sharpened.
"That's our exit."
Another quake—
They ran.
Aiden lifted Lyra onto the first ladder rung before climbing behind her. Rowan scrambled up a separate ladder nearby.
The chamber beneath them collapsed tier by tier—
falling into the spatial tear like a draining whirlpool of metal and light.
Lyra climbed faster, fear quickening her movements.
Aiden shadow-stepped upward behind her, keeping pace easily.
Rowan, panting, called out, "This is the worst cardio of my life!"
Lyra reached the top of the ladder, clutching the edge of the service tunnel. Aiden boosted her inside, then pulled himself up after.
Rowan barely made it—Aiden grabbed his wrist and hauled him in as the ladder snapped away and fell into the collapsing void.
Rowan sprawled onto the tunnel floor, gasping.
"That's it. I'm done. I retire. Find another trauma buddy."
"Aiden!" Lyra pointed.
The tunnel's far end was glowing with faint outdoor light.
The Cradle's exit.
Aiden surged to his feet.
"We're almost there—GO!"
The service tunnel shook violently as Aiden, Lyra, and Rowan sprinted through it, dust raining from the ceiling like a countdown. The light ahead—faint, flickering, pale—felt almost unreal after the dim, dying glow of the Cradle's interior.
Lyra stumbled as another tremor rippled beneath their feet.
Aiden caught her instantly.
"I'm okay," she panted. "Keep going."
Rowan swore behind them as the tunnel pitched to the side, forcing him to brace against a wall.
"Guys! The entire corridor is starting to twist—this is NOT structural integrity—it's structural nonsense!"
Aiden didn't slow.
"It's collapsing dimensionally. The Cradle doesn't want to exist anymore."
Rowan wheezed. "Well it can stop expressing itself while I'm still inside!"
A sheet of metal tore away behind them, curling like the petal of a dying flower as the Cradle's dimensional core sucked it inward. A spectral wind rushed past them—cold enough to feel like fingers dragging along their spines.
Lyra flinched.
"Aiden—what _is_ that?"
"The boundary dissolving," Aiden said.
"If it reaches us before we're out—"
Rowan cut him off.
"Don't finish that sentence."
The ceiling burst open just behind them, a fracture of white-blue light ripping downward. Aiden's shadows flared reflexively, forming a protective arc behind the group.
The light struck the shadow barrier—
splintered—
and recoiled, whining like a hurt animal.
Lyra stared at him.
"Aiden… your mantle—it's stronger."
Aiden exhaled slowly. "Harmony stabilizes reaction times."
Rowan blinked. "Harmony's a cheat code. Got it."
Lyra whispered, "It's beautiful."
Aiden pretended not to hear her.
Rowan absolutely heard her.
They pushed forward.
The tunnel narrowed, slanting upward toward the faint glow ahead. Aiden boosted Lyra up the final incline, his own balance unwavering despite the violent shaking beneath them.
Rowan scrambled up behind, cursing every third step.
The exit—
a grated metal hatch hanging half-open—
glowed with natural daylight.
The first they'd seen in hours.
Aiden braced himself against the slanted floor.
"Lyra first!"
She reached the hatch, braced her hands, and pushed.
It didn't move.
Rowan crawled up beside her, grunting.
"It's jammed!"
Aiden's mantle surged, shadows wrapping around his arm like coiled flame.
"Stand back."
Lyra and Rowan flattened themselves against the tunnel walls.
Aiden slammed his hand forward.
Shadow met metal in a violent shockwave—
the hatch ripped free,
daylight burst inward,
and a gust of cold city air rushed into the tunnel like a long-awaited breath.
Rowan cheered. "WE'RE SAVED—"
The floor dropped out from under him.
A massive rupture tore through the tunnel, eating the space behind them. Aiden lunged forward, grabbing Rowan by the collar before he fell backward into the collapse.
Rowan screamed, "PUT ME DOWN OUTSIDE, NOT INTO THE VOID—"
Aiden yanked him through the hatch and into daylight.
Lyra stumbled out beside them, collapsing onto broken stone outside the Cradle's sealed exterior.
Aiden dragged Rowan out completely and dove after them as the tunnel behind him folded inward like crushed paper.
The hatch fell shut—
and the entire Cradle shuddered.
Then—
**BOOM.**
A shockwave erupted outward, shaking the surrounding district as dust and fractured stone burst from every seam in the Cradle's ancient structure.
Lyra shielded her eyes.
Rowan screamed again, though mostly out of instinct at this point.
Aiden curled over Lyra, shielding her with his mantle as the wave passed.
When the dust finally settled—
The Forgotten Cradle was silent.
The structure remained standing, but gutted—its interior devoured by collapse and paradox fire. The world exhaled as if relieved to no longer bear its weight.
Rowan rolled onto his back, groaning.
"I'm… alive. Surprisingly alive."
Lyra wiped her teary eyes, then looked at Aiden.
"You did it," she whispered.
"You made it out."
Aiden brushed dust from her hair, voice low.
"We made it out."
Her hand found his.
Rowan observed the moment, nodded approvingly, then ruined it:
"Cool. Great. Romance arc developing nicely. Can we PLEASE leave the explosion zone now?!"
Aiden sighed, stood, and helped Lyra up.
They stepped back from the Cradle's ruin as the dust cloud faded—
And the fractured moons overhead dimmed again, as if acknowledging a shift in the world's balance.
Aiden looked up at the sky.
Rowan followed his gaze.
"Oh no. What now?"
Aiden didn't answer.
Because drifting above them, almost invisible against the Twin-Moons' pale glow, were faint threads of violet light—
thin, sharp, and cold.
Lyra sensed it too.
"Aiden… that's the Echo's residue, isn't it?"
Aiden nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Rowan groaned. "So crushing yourself in the Cradle didn't kill it?"
Aiden shook his head.
"I didn't kill the Echo."
Lyra stepped closer, worry tightening her voice.
"Then what did you do?"
Aiden's expression darkened with the weight of something only he could sense.
"I freed myself from it."
Lyra swallowed.
"And the Echo?"
Aiden clenched his fist.
"It's coming for me."
He lifted his gaze to the sky.
"And next time… it won't send an Envoy."