The world tilted.
Aeryn didn't feel it so much as hear it — a distant, hollow groan rolling through the ground like something ancient shifting beneath continents. The air hummed with static, the kind that settles in the bones rather than the ears. He forced his eyes open and immediately regretted it.
He was floating.
No… he wasn't floating — the world had simply lost the concept of direction. The sky curved into itself like a colossal spiral, bending inward until clouds collided with fragments of broken stars. Beneath him, the supposed "ground" rippled like liquid ink, forming islands of shattered stone that hovered without logic or pattern.
A place that defied comprehension.
A place that whispered.
"This—" Aeryn exhaled, steadying himself, "—must be the Threshold of Echoes."
The final boundary. The place the Seers claimed separated mortals from the truth of the Divine Engine.
And the place where Eira had been dragged by the Riftling swarm.
His muscles still ached from being torn through a dimensional seam. His lungs stung with every breath as if the air wasn't meant for mortal bodies. But his focus sharpened instantly as he scanned the distortions around him.
"Aeryn!"
He twisted just in time to see Seraphiel and Lyrielle drifting toward him, their bodies stabilized by glowing shields. Seraphiel's wings were dimmer than usual, the radiant feathers twitching with strain. Lyrielle's hair floated like soft silver flames, her emerald eyes wide with both awe and dread.
"This place is…" she whispered, voice trembling despite her usual composure, "wrong in every direction."
Seraphiel's jaw tightened. "It's not meant to be perceived by mortals. Even angels are warned never to cross this threshold."
Aeryn narrowed his eyes. "But Eira was taken through here."
"Yes," Seraphiel murmured, "and that is precisely why we must move quickly. This pocket world is unstable — the longer we stay, the more it will try to rewrite us."
Before Aeryn could answer, a sharp cry echoed through the warped landscape.
A voice he recognized.
Eira.
His heart clenched. He didn't hesitate.
"Move!" he barked, launching toward the sound.
But the world reacted instantly.
The sky cracked open like glass shattering under pressure, releasing tendrils of shadow that spiraled downward, weaving themselves into shapes familiar enough to sicken him.
Riftlings.
But these were not the skittering beasts he had fought countless times.
These were tall — humanoid — almost regal. Their forms flickered with shifting faces, occasionally borrowing his own features, then Eira's, then Lyrielle's, as if testing identities for amusement.
One stepped forward.
Its distortion twisted, shaping a sickening mockery of Aeryn's silhouette.
"You seek the girl," it echoed, its voice a layered chorus of Aeryn, Eira, and countless strangers. "But she already hears the Engine's Call."
Aeryn summoned his blade, its silver edge shimmering with unstable light. "Get out of my way."
The creature tilted its head, amused.
"Why rush? She'll forget you soon."
Aeryn didn't waste his breath.
He struck.
The impact tore the creature apart — and yet, in the same breath, it re-formed behind him, its laughter vibrating through the air.
Seraphiel reacted instantly, diving with a blazing spear. Lyrielle followed with an elven incantation that twisted space, slicing the creature's torso in half. But for every cut, three more distortions spawned.
Aeryn gritted his teeth.
"This place copies anything that enters," Lyrielle shouted over the chaos. "They're not enemies — they're reflections feeding on us!"
"So we break the mirror," Aeryn growled.
But they didn't get the chance.
The ground rippled again — violently this time — and the Riftlings evaporated like smoke being sucked upward. A thunderous vibration pulsed through the realm as a titanic shadow descended from the spiraling sky.
A shape.
A being.
A colossal, humanoid figure formed entirely of shifting glyphs and fractured light. Its arms trailed galaxies like chains. Its head was a crown of runes spinning in orbit. It radiated authority so overwhelming Aeryn felt his magic recoil instinctively.
Lyrielle froze, breath stolen. "That's… not possible."
Seraphiel fell to one knee, wings folding. "A Warden of the Divine Engine."
The figure lowered its gaze — a thousand eyes blinking at once.
"Mortal. Angel. Elf."
Its voice was not a sound — it was a command written directly into their minds.
"You trespass."
Aeryn stood his ground, sweat dripping down his temple.
"We're here for someone taken by force. Where is she?"
The Warden did not react with hostility — only an eerie stillness.
"The girl is in communion. The Engine has accepted her presence."
"That's impossible," Aeryn growled. "She's not—"
"Chosen?" the Warden finished. "Choice is irrelevant. The Engine rewrites what it needs."
Lyrielle's eyes darkened. "They're using her as a conduit."
Aeryn felt the fury rising. "Take me to her. Now."
The Warden tilted its head, runes shifting like broken stars.
"You carry the Mark of the Architect."
Aeryn's breath hitched.
He had heard the title once — whispered by the dying Oracle in the ruins of Elyndor. A title linked to forgotten creators of this world. But he had never understood what it meant.
"Why does that matter?" he demanded.
"Because only the Marked may approach the girl. The Engine recognizes you."
Seraphiel stepped forward despite the overwhelming pressure. "If Aeryn approaches alone, the Echo will consume him. The Threshold will erase his identity!"
"Then he must walk carefully," the Warden rumbled. "The girl's mind is fracturing. Her memories bleed into the Echo."
Aeryn's chest tightened.
"Point me the way."
---
THE PATH THAT REMEMBERS
The Warden extended a hand.
A fissure opened in the void — not violently, but like a curtain being gently parted. Beyond it lay a corridor of hovering platforms, each one flickering with images.
Images of Eira.
Her laughter.
Her tears.
Her late-night conversations with Aeryn by the riverbank.
Memories.
Lyrielle placed her hand on Aeryn's shoulder. "Be careful. If you step onto a memory that isn't hers… the Echo will overwrite yours."
He nodded. "I won't lose myself."
Seraphiel stared at him, eyes fierce. "If anything tries to corrupt you, call my name. I will drag you out, even if this world resists."
Aeryn gave her a faint smile. "I know."
Then he stepped through the fissure.
The world behind him faded into silence.
---
THE MEMORY CORRIDOR
The moment Aeryn set foot on the first floating platform, a soft breeze brushed his cheek, carrying a familiar scent — sunflower soap.
Eira's favorite.
A vision shimmered before him.
A younger Eira, sitting beneath an oak tree, clutching a small music box. She hummed the tune her mother used to sing. The scene warmed Aeryn's heart — but he forced himself to move carefully.
He stepped to the next platform.
This time, the memory was darker — Eira running through a burning village, tears streaking her face as monsters chased her. The ground flickered with her heartbeat — rapid, terrified.
Aeryn clenched his fists.
"I'm here now," he whispered, stepping forward.
As he touched the platform, the fire dimmed, her screams softened, and the memory stabilized, as though acknowledging his presence.
He continued.
Platform after platform.
Joy, fear, loneliness, hope.
Fragments of a girl who deserved none of the pain she had endured.
And finally—
He reached the last platform.
A massive crystal sphere hovered above it, cracked and leaking streams of light that formed spirals in the air.
Inside it—
Eira.
Floating unconscious, her silver hair drifting weightlessly, eyes glowing faintly as symbols crawled across her skin.
Aeryn's breath trembled.
"Eira…"
The sphere pulsed.
Then her eyes snapped open.
But they weren't her eyes.
They were swirling with Engine-glyphs.
"Aeryn…?" Her voice echoed twice — hers and something behind hers.
Relief washed through him — she recognized him — but it lasted only a moment before she grimaced, clutching her head.
"It's loud," she whispered. "The voices… the memories… the world… everything."
Aeryn stepped closer. "I'm here. I'll get you out."
She shook her head violently. "You shouldn't be here — the Engine is rewriting me. And if you touch it—"
The sphere cracked further, light spilling everywhere.
Aeryn reached toward her.
She screamed.
"Aeryn, DON'T—!!"
The sphere shattered.
Light exploded outward.
And everything went white.
---
THE MERGE
Aeryn hit the ground hard.
But it wasn't the warped landscape of the Threshold.
It was grass.
A field.
A starry sky above.
And Eira kneeling in front of him, trembling, clutching her arms.
But—
Something was wrong.
Her shadow split into two.
Her voice echoed in layers.
And her left eye glowed with pure Engine-light.
"Aeryn," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks, "I can't stop it…"
Aeryn crawled forward, ignoring the ache in his limbs. "I won't let them take you."
She reached out, fingers shaking violently.
"I'm becoming… something else."
"I don't care."
Her lip trembled. "I don't want to forget you."
"You won't."
But before he could reach her, the ground split, a massive sigil appearing beneath them.
The sky tore open.
And a voice — one neither mortal nor divine — reverberated through the field.
"THE MARKED AND THE CONDUIT HAVE MET. THE MERGING SEQUENCE BEGINS."
Aeryn's blood turned cold.
Eira screamed.
Light consumed them both.
The world collapsed around them.
And the chapter ends.