The face had spoken with Elara's own voice.
"The legacy of the final vessel."
That sentence remained suspended above the fourth path. The darkness of the Record Core did not move for a while. The writings did not flow. The old protocols did not speak. Even Arven did not immediately interfere.
That silence tightened Elara further. Because sometimes, when a place fell silent, it was not hiding the answer. It was measuring the weight of it.
Elara looked at the face before her. The face did not fully belong to her. It carried the shapeless light of the Moon Spirit. It carried the facelessness of the first body. It carried Elara's own lines. But none of them stood alone. Where the three overlapped, what appeared was too new to be familiar and too intimate to be foreign.
"What will remain from me?" Elara asked.
