The world folded inward.
Light and shadow intertwined, twisting reality into ribbons of data. The golden mist that had once been the Watcher condensed around Aiden until the air itself felt alive — aware — watching him breathe.
He could feel it inside his veins.
The code.
The pulse of the server's core — slow, ancient, patient.
> "You seek the Origin," the Watcher's voice resonated, layered and timeless. "You seek the place where thought becomes creation."
Its tone was neither threat nor welcome.
It simply was — like gravity, like truth.
Aiden's eyes glowed faintly, gold fractals bleeding across his irises. "I seek what was denied."
The Watcher tilted its faceted head. "Denied? Or protected?"
Aiden stepped closer. The air rippled with his presence, bending slightly around him as if afraid to resist. "You talk like you know what this system is protecting. I've seen its lies. The loops. The false deaths. I tore them apart."
