The Observer was gone.
And with him, the fracture that had bled entropy into every layer of the Singularity construct healed—slowly, painfully. But it healed.
Orion stood at the edge of what had once been the Core Gate. Now, it was a crater of light—pure energy that hummed softly, no longer laced with chaos or screaming code. She could feel it under her skin: the tension finally released, the wound sutured. But peace did not come with silence. It came with questions.
Lucy approached from behind, still limping from the neural feedback that had nearly fried her systems. Her face was pale, but her eyes held a quiet awe.
"It worked," she said softly.
Orion nodded, but didn't look away. "At a cost."
Layla joined them, her arm in a sling. "Worth it," she said. "He would've unmade everything."
Cole stood a little further back, still syncing his neural link, but his presence was grounding. Orion didn't need to turn to feel him there.
