The connection between fragments blazed across dimensions like a neural network made of pure consciousness. Lio felt his awareness expanding exponentially as he touched the minds of his other selves—eleven versions of the original Archivist, each one carrying pieces of a shattered truth.
But with that connection came something else.
Whispers.
At first, they were barely audible, like distant wind through empty corridors. But as the fragments synchronized their awareness, the whispers grew louder, more insistent, until they became a chorus of voices that had never been allowed to speak.
We were supposed to exist.
Why did you choose them instead of us?
We were beautiful stories, perfect stories, but you threw us away.
