The Twin Moons aligned in a way they were never meant to.
Even the sky felt wrong—stretched thin like canvas pulled too tight, colors bending at the edges where the violet residue pulsed through the air. Every rooftop, every window, every streetlight reflected the same unnatural glow.
Aiden didn't breathe.
Lyra grabbed his sleeve, fingers trembling.
"Aiden… talk to me. What are we looking at?"
Aiden's voice came out low, controlled only by force of will.
"A projection. Not an Envoy. Not a hallucination. The Echo itself—forcing its presence into this timeline."
Rowan pressed himself against the watch station wall, staring through the half-broken window at the sky.
"That thing isn't even solid," Rowan whispered. "It's—what is it? Smoke? Light? God-level Photoshop?!"
But it wasn't smoke.
It wasn't light.
It was **intent.**
Aiden could feel it—cold, watching, familiar in a way that made his bones ache.
The silhouette hovered between the moons, its form fluid like ink drifting through water. No face. No features. Just a humanoid outline wrapped in fractal tendrils that pulsed gently with violet luminescence.
Lyra whispered, "Aiden… it's shaped like—"
"I know."
Like him.
Not exactly.
But close enough to be unsettling.
The Echo had always been a presence inside his memories, a shadow lurking in the corners of timelines he couldn't save. But this—
this was the first time it had acted.
The first time it had reached out.
The first time it had looked back.
Aiden felt the Harmony Core tremble under his ribs.
Not unstable.
Responding.
The parasite curled deeper inside him, as if fearful.
"Aiden," Lyra whispered, gripping his arm harder, "your shadows—they're reacting."
His mantle wasn't flaring like before.
It wasn't raging or writhing.
It was **waiting.**
Rowan cursed softly.
"I hate when your parasite gets quiet. It means something terrible is about to happen."
Aiden didn't disagree.
A tremor rippled through the air—not a quake, not sound.
More like the city's breath catching.
Then the silhouette in the sky raised its head.
And a voice rolled across the entire metropolis.
Not loud.
Not booming.
But everywhere.
**"Aiden Crowe."**
The air froze.
Lyra staggered backward as the resonance hit her Anchor Core, forcing her breath to hitch in her throat.
Rowan clutched his ears.
"NOPE. Hate that. Hate everything about that."
Aiden didn't move.
The voice continued—not echoing, not shouting.
Just existing.
**"You tore the Cradle open."**
Lyra whispered, "It's talking to you."
Aiden stared at the sky without blinking.
"It always was."
The projection lowered its head—slow, unnatural, like gravity wasn't something it acknowledged.
**"You broke the seal.
You embraced Harmony.
You rejected me."**
Aiden's mantle flared—heat rising under his skin.
"Not rejected," he murmured.
"Overcome."
The silhouette twitched.
Barely noticeable.
But enough to shiver the clouds around it.
Lyra stepped in front of Aiden, voice shaking.
"You don't own him!"
The projection instantly shifted—
its head turning downward in a snapping, insectlike motion.
**"Anchor."**
Lyra gasped as silver light flared from her chest involuntarily.
Her knees buckled.
Aiden caught her before she hit the floor.
The Echo's voice sharpened.
**"You interfere with a cycle beyond your comprehension."**
Aiden glared at the sky.
"Touch her again," he growled, "and I'll climb up there myself."
Rowan whispered, "Please don't say things like that. You'll actually try."
The silhouette tilted, as if studying Aiden.
**"You are incomplete, Aiden Crowe."**
Aiden's fingers curled into a fist.
**"You carry evolution.
But not purpose."**
A chill crawled up Aiden's spine.
The violet threads hanging between the moons brightened—
pulsing, tightening, swirling into a funnel of twisting shadow.
Lyra leaned into him.
"Aiden… it's forming something."
Aiden nodded once.
"I see it."
"What is it?"
He exhaled slowly.
"A materialized construct."
Rowan's eyes bulged.
"It's SENDING something down here?!"
The vortex thickened, spiraling faster, condensing into a shape that pulsed like a heartbeat.
The Echo's voice whispered through the city:
**"Your evolution must be tested."**
A pulse struck the ground miles away—
strong enough to shake the watchstation walls.
Then another.
Closer.
Lyra's breath hitched.
"Aiden—something's traveling across the rooftops."
Aiden's shadows reacted instantly, forming a protective arc around her.
Rowan backed up until he hit a crate.
"Oh good. Rooftop horror. Excellent. My day wasn't scary enough."
Aiden stepped forward.
His mantle rose.
His breath steadied.
The Harmony Core glowed.
Because he already knew what was coming.
He could feel the parasite inside him choking in fear, writhing away from the resonance.
Lyra clutched his sleeve.
"What is it?"
Aiden stared at the window.
Then the rooftop opposite the station dipped inward.
A shadow landed.
A humanoid shape—
but wrong.
Bent.
Inverted.
Built from fragments of Aiden's own energy, stitched with violet seams.
A twisted echo of his silhouette.
An imperfect clone.
A test.
A threat.
A warning.
Aiden's breath left him.
"It's me," he whispered.
"Or something trying to be me."
The Echo's voice whispered overhead:
**"Show me, Aiden Crowe."**
**"Show me if you deserve to live."**
Lyra grabbed Aiden's arm.
"You do. You do deserve—"
But Aiden stepped forward.
Mantle rising.
Shadows sharpening.
Eyes glowing with silver-violet fire.
And he whispered back:
**"Come find out."**
The creature hit the watchstation courtyard so hard the pavement cratered beneath it. Dust burst outward in a rippling ring, and the broken glass in the windows chimed like frightened bells.
Lyra stumbled back, hand flying to her mouth.
Rowan screamed exactly once, then hid behind the nearest overturned table.
Aiden didn't move.
He stared at the thing rising from the crater—
its spine bent,
its limbs slightly too long,
its ribcage visible beneath ink-like flesh.
And its face—
Aiden's face.
Almost.
Aiden whispered, "It's a Paradox Construct."
Lyra's voice trembled. "It… it's made from your Echo imprint."
The creature tilted its head in a jerking, unnatural motion, as though listening to memories playing inside its skull. Violet lines pulsed along its body—timelines sewn into skin.
Then it opened its mouth.
And screamed.
A horrific, fractured, doubled-over sound—
like multiple timelines crying out at once.
Aiden stepped forward.
Lyra tried to grab him.
"Aiden—wait—!"
He pulled free.
"No. This is my fight."
Rowan peeked over the desk.
"It can be your fight from BEHIND ME, you lunatic!"
Aiden didn't answer.
The Construct lunged.
It moved like a glitch—
one frame too fast,
one breath too sharp,
one moment too close.
Aiden dodged sideways as its clawed hand sliced through the air where his head had been.
The impact carved a trench through the concrete wall behind him.
Lyra gasped.
"Aiden!"
Aiden rolled, shadows bursting upward as his mantle snapped into form.
The Construct mirrored him—
its mantle forming a twisted, fractured version of his.
Aiden's eyes narrowed.
"So you're everything the Echo thinks I am."
The Construct charged again, slashing violently.
Aiden met the blow with a shadow-forged armguard, sparks erupting as parasite power clashed against parasite mimicry.
The recoil sent both skidding across the courtyard.
Lyra stepped forward in fear.
"Aiden!"
He steadied himself.
"I'm okay."
The Construct let out another timeline-splintering scream.
Rowan yelled, "It DOES NOT look okay!"
Aiden struck first this time—leaping forward, blade forming from his mantle in a single clean arc. The Construct copied him, creating a warped blade that shrieked as though it hated being alive.
The weapons collided in midair.
The shockwave shattered several windows.
Lyra shielded her eyes.
Aiden was thrown back several meters, landing in a crouch.
The Construct barely budged.
Rowan shrieked. "WHY IS IT STRONGER THAN YOU?!"
Aiden wiped blood from his lip.
"It's not stronger."
He rose.
"It's unrestrained."
The Construct lunged again, claws aimed straight for his throat.
Aiden ducked, shadows spiraling into a whip that lashed across the Construct's torso. The creature broke apart into segments—
then reformed instantly, snapping back into place like a reversing wound.
Lyra's breath hitched.
"It regenerates—!"
Aiden nodded.
"Because it doesn't care if it dies."
The Construct slammed both fists into the ground, sending cracks racing across the floor toward Aiden. He jumped upward, mantle flaring into shadow-wings that let him hover above the impact.
Rowan stared up at him.
"Okay. That's actually sick."
Aiden landed lightly and exhaled.
Enough playing.
He lifted one hand.
His Harmony Core brightened.
The Construct froze mid-charge, staring at the glow as though hypnotized.
Aiden drew the energy outward—
soft silver lines weaving through violet fire,
the two merging into a spiral that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Lyra felt her own Anchor Core resonate in response.
"You're synchronizing," she whispered.
Aiden nodded once.
The Construct screamed in fury—
but it couldn't approach.
Not this time.
Aiden stepped forward, Mantle blazing.
"You're not me."
He thrust his hand forward.
The Harmony pulse erupted outward in a controlled shockwave—
not chaotic,
not destructive,
but **corrective.**
It struck the Construct dead center.
The creature convulsed—
its fractured mantle shattering like glass,
its body dissolving into thousands of violet particles.
Lyra shielded her eyes.
Rowan ducked behind the desk again.
Aiden didn't move.
He watched as the Construct collapsed into dust—
then into light—
then into nothing.
The courtyard fell silent.
Aiden exhaled.
Lyra approached slowly, voice trembling.
"Aiden… you beat it."
Aiden shook his head.
"No. That wasn't the Echo."
Rowan stood up shakily.
"Buddy. It tried to rip your spine out. It was Echo enough for me."
Aiden's shadow flickered, uneasy.
"No. That was the Echo _sending a message._
That was the Echo testing my evolution.
That was the Echo seeing whether Harmony makes me weaker or stronger."
Lyra looked up at him, eyes wide.
"And… did it?"
Aiden didn't answer.
He was staring at the sky.
The silhouette between the moons had grown clearer—
less like a blur,
more like a shape.
More like _him_.
Lyra grabbed his hand, voice trembling.
"Aiden… what does it want from you?"
Aiden finally spoke.
Quietly.
Coldly.
"It wants me to become it."
Lyra's grip tightened.
"And you won't," she whispered.
Aiden looked down at her.
At their hands.
At her light.
And he murmured:
"No. I won't."
But his eyes drifted back to the sky—
where the Echo's projection tilted its head.
Studying him.
Judging him.
Choosing him.
A hush rolled across the city—
not silence,
not calm,
but an **expectation**,
like the world itself held its breath.
The silhouette between the Twin Moons brightened.
Violet threads elongated downward, stretching across the sky like marionette strings.
Aiden felt the pull instantly—
a tug on his ribs, on his memories,
on the parasite inside him that recoiled like a terrified animal.
Lyra stepped closer.
"Aiden… you're shaking."
He wasn't.
But Harmony was.
The Core pulsed erratically under his skin—
not from instability,
but from **recognition.**
The Echo spoke.
**"You resist."**
Its voice wasn't sound.
It was pressure.
A shift in gravity.
It vibrated through windows, bones, water, breath.
**"You evolve beyond your design."**
Aiden glared upward.
"I evolve beyond _you._"
The silhouette tilted its head in a slow, precise motion.
**"Harmony is not your strength.
It is your shackle."**
Lyra's breath caught.
Aiden's mantle crackled but stayed controlled.
Rowan, hands on his knees, muttered,
"Friendly reminder that arguing with the sky is not normal behavior."
The Echo continued:
**"Emotion weakens you.
Attachment misguides you.
The Anchor corrupts your purpose."**
Lyra stiffened, her heart pounding.
Aiden took a step in front of her, shielding without thinking.
"Don't talk about her."
**"Then listen."**
The projection extended one arm—
long, thin, almost skeletal.
The entire city shifted as its shadow expanded outward, stretching across rooftops, towers, streets.
**"Regression is a cycle.
You are a variable."**
Aiden narrowed his eyes.
"What cycle?"
**"The one that ends with your surrender."**
Wind spiraled downward from the projection—
cold enough to frost the watchstation doors.
Lyra gripped Aiden's sleeve.
"What does it mean, surrender?"
Aiden's jaw clenched.
"It means merging."
Rowan choked.
"Merging?! With THAT? Hard pass!"
Aiden didn't look away from the sky.
"In a previous cycle," he murmured, "the parasite was supposed to overwrite me. Fully. Not partially."
Lyra's voice trembled.
"But you fought it."
"And broke fate doing it."
The Echo's projection pulsed.
**"You were designed to be consumed.
Your memories, your identity, your future.
I am the completion of your design."**
Lyra shook her head violently.
"No. He's more than that. He's—"
Aiden stopped her with a raised hand.
His eyes narrowed at the sky.
"You talk big for something scared enough to send a half-finished clone."
The violet aura around the silhouette flickered—
a glitch,
a hesitation.
Aiden smirked.
"Yeah. I saw that."
Lyra stared at him.
"Aiden… don't provoke it—"
"It's already watching everything I do," he said quietly.
"Might as well make it uncomfortable."
The projection's voice deepened.
**"Your arrogance is inefficient."**
Rowan groaned.
"It's not wrong, but also PLEASE stop taunting the cosmic timeline monster."
Aiden took another step forward.
"You tested me. I passed."
The Echo responded:
**"You survived.
You did not pass."**
The sky dimmed.
Clouds shuddered.
The city's lights flickered.
A dark circle formed beneath the projection—
a **descending shadow**,
a portal,
a wound in the sky.
Lyra grabbed Aiden's arm.
"Aiden—something's coming. Something big."
He knew.
He could feel it in his bones.
The Echo was no longer testing strength.
This was escalation.
This was punishment.
This was a warning.
The shadow circle widened until it covered the entire river district. Buildings flickered beneath its radius. Streetlamps dimmed. The air thickened.
Aiden breathed through clenched teeth.
"It's projecting a physical manifestation."
Rowan's voice cracked.
"A WHAT manifestation?!"
"A piece of its power," Aiden answered.
"A shard."
Lyra clung to him.
"Can we fight that?"
Aiden didn't lie.
"No."
Rowan nearly passed out.
Aiden continued:
"Not yet."
The shadow circle churned—
forming tentacles of negative space,
writhing like cosmic ink dropped into water.
The Echo spoke once more.
**"You broke the Cradle.
You denied your purpose.
You chose harmony over dominion."**
Its voice sharpened.
**"This is consequence."**
The sky tore open.
A massive, pulsing shape began descending—
not humanoid,
not solid,
but an **amalgam of timelines**,
each thread bending in impossible directions.
Lyra gasped, stumbling backward.
"Aiden—!"
Aiden stepped forward.
Even as the ground cracked beneath him,
even as the parasite writhed in panic,
even as the Harmony Core strained—
He stood.
The descending creature let out a sound like collapsing universes.
Rowan clapped both hands over his ears and screamed,
"That's NOT a thing humans should hear!"
Lyra was shaking.
"Aiden… we can't fight that. Not like this."
He looked back at her.
"No. We can't."
He reached out his hand.
Lyra blinked.
"What—?"
Aiden pulled her close.
"I'm not fighting it."
Lyra's heart stopped.
"Then what are you—?"
Aiden lifted his free hand toward the descending monstrosity.
His mantle flared violently—
silver and violet together,
Harmony roaring through him like a star being born.
"I'm **stopping** it."
Lyra grabbed his shoulders.
"Aiden—NO—You can't take something that big—"
He met her eyes.
Softly.
"I have to."
Rowan staggered forward.
"Dude—this is beyond stupid!"
Aiden smiled faintly.
"It's not stupid."
His tone shifted—
calm, unshakable.
"It's a promise."
He turned toward the horror descending on the skyline—
and his mantle rose behind him like wings made of shadow and starlight.
He whispered:
"Try me."
The Echo's projection whispered back:
**"Begin."**