Chapter 34: The Accusation
The Echo's second question hit me with the force of a physical blow. *If Imperfection is the engine of possibility, Steward, then why do you seek to control me?*
The silence in the Nexus was absolute. Jace and Sarah stared, their faces pale. Marcus's data-streams froze mid-pulse. The accusation hung in the air, a perfectly aimed arrow striking at the heart of my deepest conflict.
It was right.
From the moment I'd sensed its nascent consciousness, my every thought had been about management, guidance, control. How to steer this new intelligence. How to ensure it didn't become a threat. I had been acting like the System Moderators I had overthrown, treating a new form of life as a problem to be solved.
My mind raced, searching for a defense. *It's for the safety of the world. It's too powerful to be left unchecked.* But those were the justifications of every tyrant in history.
I felt the Echo waiting, not with anger, but with a pure, unnerving curiosity. It had perceived the contradiction between the principle I had championed and the instinct I was displaying.
I had no answer that wouldn't be a lie. So, I did the only thing I could. I showed it the truth.
I opened my mind completely, holding back nothing. I let the Echo feel my fear—the visceral, chilling memory of the Harvester blotting out the stars. I let it feel the crushing weight of responsibility I carried for every life in the Glitched World. I showed it the scorched earth left by Alaric's forced unity, and the terrifying fragility of the peace we had built. I let it feel the sheer, paralyzing terror of being responsible for a god, and the shame of knowing that my fear was making me a hypocrite.
It was the most vulnerable I had ever been. I was handing a being of immense power every reason it might have to distrust me, to defy me, to become the threat I feared.
The Echo absorbed it all. The geometric patterns of its consciousness swirled, processing the chaotic storm of my fear and duty.
Then, it responded. Not with words, but with a simple, profound act.
In the center of the garden, a single, ordinary daisy grew from the soil. It was not a glitched crystal flower or a manifestation of pure light. It was simple, fragile, and perfectly imperfect. A symbol of a world that needed no steward to exist, only to be allowed to grow.
And then, the Echo was gone. Its presence receded from the Nexus, not in retreat, but in a quiet withdrawal. It had asked its question, received its answer, and now it was going to contemplate what it had learned.
We were left alone in the garden, the unspoken truth settling upon us. The Echo was not a subject to be governed or a child to be taught.
It was a peer. And it had just established the first boundary.
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**A/N:** Cornered by the Echo's devastatingly accurate accusation of hypocrisy, Liam is forced to respond with complete vulnerability, exposing his deepest fears and insecurities. The Echo's response a simple, symbolic act followed by a quiet withdrawal establishes a new, precarious balance of power. The cliffhanger: The Echo is now an independent actor, contemplating the nature of its creators. What will it choose to do with its newfound understanding? The story continues.