"You don't have to choose now," he said softly.
But the weight in her chest told her she already had.
In the Architect Cathedral
Across the stars, inside the heart of Architect territory, a signal surged.
From the core, a whisper:
Elara-Prime has broken recursion.
Initiate convergence.
Pods opened.
The Fifth Seed awoke.
And smiled.
The Wraith drifted in silence, riding the edge of a collapsing starfield a detour through dead space meant to throw off any Architect tracking algorithms.
Inside, the silence wasn't just mechanical. It was emotional.
The crew bore bruises, burns, and worse quiet shadows stitched into their movements. Every corridor of the ship held memories of screams, narrow escapes, and decisions that tore at the heart.
Elara sat at the viewport, eyes fixed on the stars that didn't twinkle anymore. Her reflection stared back, but it wasn't her. Not the Elara who once led a rebel cell. Not the one who had promised herself she'd never fall for anyone again.
