There was no light, not even darkness. Just the beat.
Elaine's eyes popped open into void and were greeted by all.
The Core wasn't a place anymore — it was a maelstrom of memories, threads of light seething outwards into infinity. Every one of them vibrated with moments that weren't meant to know each other: her first breath, her first kill, the night Ian had assured that they would never get lost again.
But now such threads were breaking.
"Ian?".
His voice from everywhere and nowhere loosely echoed a voice: "I'm here."
She turned and saw him coming through the tempest, now dancing between boy and code, brother and algorithm. With every step he took, he redefined the space between us.
"The Architect is falling out of control," he says. "But what about us?"
Elaine looked down. Her hands were clear, fluids of numbers weaving in and out in her veins like light. Her reflection hung beside her — this time, not her shadow-self but something softer. One that never fought, never murdered.
"To be what?" asked Elaine.
"It's not a fight anymore," that reflection said. "It's a choice."
"To be what?" Elaine asked.
"To be human. Or to be remembered." "Ian reached out, his hand shaking as the Core started collapsing around them.
"If we hold on, the system resets. The world lives, but we die with it."
Elaine stared at him; her eyes filled with the storm. "What if we don't?"
"Then the world becomes what we are right now."
Silence.
There was a single heartbeat, resounding in the void—then every strand of memory, every instant of their lives, was clustered around them as tightly as stars in a constellation.
She saw the city. Rhea. The ones outside, frozen mid-breath.
And then she saw the Architect—observing, anticipating.
Elaine took Ian's hand. "So, we decide together."