Inside the Tower, the atmosphere shifted again. Walls pulsed rhythmically like a heartbeat made of light and data, stretching impossibly high into a void that felt both infinite and suffocating.
Rael's senses strained to keep pace with the constantly shifting environment. Shards of memories flickered around them—half-heard whispers, fragments of laughter, screams frozen in time.
Patchling's glow dimmed as it hovered nervously near Rael's shoulder. "The deeper we go, the more unstable everything becomes. The core data stream isn't just a file—it's a living archive of lost memories. Some are broken. Some are… dangerous."
Kazen frowned, eyes scanning the endless cascade of fractured data. "It's like a fractal. Every layer repeats itself with slight variations. Different timelines, different versions of history stacked upon one another."
Rael swallowed hard. "So even if we reach the center, what if it's just another loop?"
Patchling's voice was soft. "Memories can be rewritten, Rael. This system may trap the past, but it's not infallible."
Suddenly, the floor rippled beneath their feet, and ghostly figures emerged from the walls—faces from Rael's past, distorted and flickering in and out of existence.
Rael's breath caught as he recognized a younger version of himself, smiling before the calamity began. A rush of painful emotion flooded him.
"We can't get distracted," Rael urged, pushing past the visions. "We have to keep moving."
The path ahead twisted and fractured, yet their determination held firm. The answers awaited at the core, buried beneath layers of fractured memories and corrupted timelines.