The world did not finish folding.
It stalled.
Reality hung mid adjustment, layers trembling like poorly aligned glass. The distortion left behind by the Null still clung to the air, thinning sound and bending distance. Every step Aerys took felt delayed, as if the world needed extra time to decide whether to accept him.
Nyxara felt it too.
"You are pulling too much of it with you," she said quietly.
Aerys did not slow. "I did not choose that."
"No," she replied. "But you are no longer neutral to places."
Seris glanced back at the rupture behind them. "It is closing."
"Not fast enough," Nyxara said.
The sky above them darkened, not with cloud but with pattern. Thin geometric seams stitched themselves across the horizon, each one pulsing with pale light.
Aerys exhaled slowly. "They are not chasing anymore."
Seris frowned. "Then what are they doing?"
Nyxara answered before he could. "Herding."
The first scream cut through the air seconds later.
Human.
Too close.
They broke into a run.
The terrain shifted abruptly, resolving into a valley filled with bodies that still moved. People knelt in rows, eyes unfocused, mouths moving silently. Sigils glowed faintly beneath their skin, Architects' marks woven into muscle and nerve.
Seris swore. "They are using them."
Nyxara's hands trembled. "Simulacra."
Aerys slowed to a stop.
The nearest figure looked up.
It was a boy. No more than fifteen. His eyes flicked toward Aerys, and for a moment something real surfaced.
"Help," he whispered.
Then his mouth moved again, and the voice that came out was not his.
"Anomaly located."
The valley responded.
Dozens of heads snapped up at once.
Aerys felt it then. The pull. Not instinctual command, but recognition. Every simulacrum oriented toward him like iron filings toward a magnet.
Nyxara grabbed his arm. "Do not engage."
"If I do nothing, they suffer," Aerys replied.
"If you act, they die anyway," she said sharply. "And so might you."
The simulacra rose.
Not all at once.
In waves.
They moved with mechanical precision, bodies forced into patterns their minds could not process. Bones cracked under strain, but they did not slow.
Seris raised her weapon. "Orders."
Aerys closed his eyes briefly.
"I will draw them," he said.
Nyxara's breath hitched. "No."
"They respond to me," he continued. "You get the others out."
Seris shook her head. "That is suicide."
Aerys opened his eyes. "Then make it mean something."
Nyxara stepped in front of him. "You are not expendable."
"Neither are they," he replied softly.
She stared at him, anger and fear colliding. "You do not get to decide that alone."
Aerys hesitated.
Just long enough.
The simulacra surged.
He reacted instinctively, stepping forward, power flaring outward. Not command. Not domination.
Interruption.
The sigils flickered.
Several simulacra collapsed, screaming as feedback tore through their nervous systems.
Nyxara cried out. "Stop!"
Aerys froze.
The damage was done.
The boy lay twitching on the ground, eyes unfocused, breath shallow.
Aerys dropped to his knees beside him. "I did not mean to."
The boy's lips moved. "It hurts."
Aerys clenched his jaw. "I know."
Nyxara knelt opposite him, hands shaking as she tried to stabilize the failing sigils. "They bound them too deeply."
Seris fought back the remaining simulacra, each strike precise, merciless.
A voice echoed across the valley.
Not loud.
Certain.
"Behavioral deviation confirmed."
The air split.
Architect constructs descended, not fully manifest, but enough. Their sigils burned brighter than before, calculations accelerating.
Aerys stood slowly.
"This is my fault," he said.
Nyxara looked up at him sharply. "No. This is their escalation."
"They adapted," Seris shouted. "They always do."
The Architect spoke again. "Emotional interference detected."
Nyxara felt the focus shift.
"No," she whispered.
The Architect continued. "Anchor removal initiated."
Space twisted around Nyxara.
Aerys moved instantly, stepping into the distortion, forcing himself between her and the collapsing geometry.
Pain tore through him as the system resisted.
"Do not," Nyxara begged. "You cannot keep doing this."
He met her gaze, strained but steady. "I will not let them take you."
The Architect paused.
"Anchor confirmed," it said. "Termination yields optimal outcome."
Aerys laughed, hoarse. "You still do not understand."
He reached inward.
Not to power.
To memory.
To the boy's voice. To Seris's defiance. To Nyxara's fear.
The simulacra froze.
The sigils across their bodies dimmed.
The Architects recoiled slightly.
"Unexpected resonance," one said.
Aerys felt it tearing him apart. Every connection pulling at once, demanding coherence he could no longer sustain.
Nyxara screamed his name.
"Aerys, let go!"
"I cannot," he gasped. "If I do, they reset."
Seris shouted, "Then burn it out!"
Aerys laughed weakly. "That will kill me."
Nyxara reached for his face, tears streaking down her cheeks. "Do not leave me with their mercy."
The Architect advanced.
"Anomaly collapse imminent," it said.
Aerys felt something give.
Not breaking.
Surrendering.
He released control.
Not to the system.
To consequence.
The resonance imploded.
A shockwave ripped through the valley, flinging simulacra backward, severing sigils violently. Some screamed. Some went still.
The Architects were forced back, geometry distorting wildly.
Aerys collapsed.
Nyxara caught him before he hit the ground.
His breathing was shallow. His eyes unfocused.
"Aerys," she whispered. "Stay with me."
He smiled faintly. "Still here."
But something was wrong.
Seris approached slowly. "He is… quieter."
Nyxara pressed her forehead to his. "What did you lose?"
Aerys swallowed. "I cannot hear them anymore."
"The gods?" she asked.
"No," he replied. "People."
Silence hit harder than any blow.
Nyxara closed her eyes. "You severed your resonance."
Aerys nodded weakly. "They cannot use it now."
"And you?" she whispered.
He looked at her, something distant in his gaze. "I do not know how long I can stay."
The Architects regrouped at the edge of reality, recalculations rapid, aggressive.
"Iteration failed," one said.
Another turned its gaze inward. "Escalate to final contingency."
Nyxara stiffened. "What does that mean?"
Aerys struggled to his feet. "It means they stop hunting me."
"And start erasing everything around you," Seris finished grimly.
The sky darkened further.
Nyxara took Aerys's hand, gripping it tightly despite the growing distance she felt.
"Whatever happens next," she said, voice breaking, "do not disappear without me."
Aerys squeezed her fingers weakly.
"I will try," he said.
The Architect spoke one last time, voice echoing across collapsing space.
"Prepare environment reset."
Aerys looked up.
And for the first time, he was afraid not of dying.
But of surviving.
The first thing Aerys noticed was the cold.
Not the absence of warmth, but the absence of response.
The world no longer leaned toward him.
Before, even when he resisted it, reality acknowledged his presence. Instincts shifted. People reacted. Systems recalculated. Now, the air felt indifferent, like stone that had never been shaped by hand.
Nyxara felt the change immediately.
"You are fading at the edges," she said quietly, walking beside him as they moved away from the valley.
Aerys nodded. "I know."
Seris glanced back once more, jaw tight. "The simulacra are no longer tracking us."
"That is not mercy," Nyxara said. "That is irrelevance."
The word lodged deep.
They reached a rise overlooking the broken valley. Smoke drifted upward where the shockwave had torn the ground apart. Some survivors moved weakly among the fallen. Others did not move at all.
Aerys stopped.
Nyxara felt it and turned. "We cannot go back."
"I know," he said. "But I need to see it."
He looked at the valley without resonance, without instinct guiding his empathy. The suffering was visible, undeniable, yet it no longer reached him the way it once had.
Fear crept in, slow and corrosive.
"I cannot feel their pain," he said hoarsely.
Nyxara closed her eyes. "That is the cost."
Seris exhaled sharply. "Then what good are you now?"
The question hung between them.
Aerys did not bristle. He did not argue.
"I do not know," he admitted.
That frightened Nyxara more than any display of power ever had.
They continued moving as the sky began to change.
Not darkening.
Aligning.
Patterns formed slowly, too large to grasp all at once. Entire constellations shifted, rearranging themselves into deliberate symmetry.
Nyxara went pale. "They are rewriting the environment."
"To flush us out," Seris said.
"No," Nyxara replied. "To remove variables."
Aerys stopped again.
This time, Nyxara did not need to ask why.
Ahead of them, the land simply ended.
Not a cliff.
An absence.
A clean vertical edge where the world had been excised, revealing nothing beyond. No void. No darkness. Just nonexistence.
Seris stared. "They erased it."
"Yes," Nyxara whispered. "A test deletion."
Aerys stepped closer, careful.
He felt nothing pull him back.
"That could have been us," Seris said quietly.
Aerys nodded. "It still could be."
The air shifted behind them.
Nyxara turned sharply, heart pounding.
Someone stood there.
A man.
Human.
No sigils. No distortion. No geometric bleed.
He looked tired. Ordinary. Like someone who had simply walked too far and forgotten why.
"You should not be here," the man said calmly.
Seris raised her weapon instantly. "Identify yourself."
The man smiled faintly. "I no longer have one."
Nyxara felt something twist in her chest. "You survived a reset."
"Yes," he replied. "Once."
Aerys studied him carefully. "How?"
The man's eyes flicked to him, sharp with recognition. "By being forgotten."
Nyxara's breath caught. "That is impossible."
"It is," the man agreed. "Which is why it works only briefly."
Seris frowned. "You are a lure."
The man did not deny it. "Perhaps."
Nyxara stepped forward. "Why warn us?"
The man hesitated. "Because you remind me of who I was before I learned how small resistance becomes without witnesses."
Aerys met his gaze. "They erased your world."
"Yes," the man said softly. "And everyone in it."
Silence fell, heavy and suffocating.
Nyxara whispered, "I am sorry."
The man smiled sadly. "So was I."
He looked at Aerys again. "You are breaking in the wrong direction."
Aerys frowned. "Explain."
"You are shedding connections to survive," the man said. "But survival without resonance becomes solitude. And solitude is easy to overwrite."
Nyxara felt a chill. "He is right."
Aerys clenched his fists. "I did not choose this."
"No," the man said gently. "But you will choose what comes next."
The sky pulsed violently.
A voice echoed across the land, vast and impersonal.
"Final contingency deployed."
Nyxara's blood ran cold. "They are done negotiating."
The man stepped back toward the erased edge of the world.
"You have one chance," he said. "Do not let them decide what remains of you."
Seris barked, "Where are you going?"
The man smiled faintly. "To be erased properly."
Before anyone could stop him, he stepped forward.
And vanished.
No sound.
No light.
Just absence closing cleanly behind him.
Nyxara staggered, breath ragged. "They will do that to everything."
Aerys looked at the place where the man had been.
Something hardened inside him.
"Then we stop running," he said.
Nyxara turned sharply. "You cannot fight them like this."
"I am not going to fight them," Aerys replied.
Seris frowned. "Then what are you planning?"
Aerys met Nyxara's gaze.
"I am going to make them see me," he said. "Not as an anomaly. Not as a threat."
Nyxara swallowed. "As what?"
Aerys's voice was steady, terrifyingly calm.
"As proof that erasure does not solve choice."
The sky cracked.
Nyxara grabbed his arm. "Aerys, if you do this—"
He looked at her, eyes distant but resolute.
"They will come for you," she whispered.
Aerys squeezed her hand once.
"They already are."
The world began to collapse inward.
And this time, Aerys did not move away from it.