The edges of reality peeled back like burning paper as Orion, Cole, Echo, and the Guardian stepped into the Threshold—a corridor suspended between what was and what might yet be. Here, time folded like ribbon, cascading around them in flashes of history, potential futures, and collapsed timelines. This place was neither LUCENT's construct nor the Old Code's remnants. It was something older, primal—pre-logic.
Orion's breath caught as she felt the weight of unfiltered time pressing on her soul. It wasn't linear. It wasn't even sane. It was every memory she had ever lost—and many that had never belonged to her.
"This place..." Cole said, trying to steady himself as echoes of past versions of himself flickered across his vision. One version wore a military uniform. Another was bloodied and alone. One... didn't exist at all.
"This is the Ashes of Time," Echo said, his voice strained, as if his form struggled to stay coherent. "Where failed cycles go to die. The system's discard bin."