Aven woke to the stench of smoke and burning plastic. His ears rang, the world a blur of swirling neon and shifting shadows. For a moment he thought he'd died and woken up in one of the museum's twisted futures—a wasteland of half-formed images and glitching static.
But then he felt Rhea's hand gripping his, pulling him upright. Her face was streaked with ash, a thin cut bleeding down her cheek. Her eyes were wild but alive.
"Get up," she rasped. "We're not done yet."
He staggered to his feet, swaying. Around them, the control tower was gone, reduced to molten slag and glowing fragments. Sparks rained from the ceiling, cables whipped and hissed like dying snakes, and the floor was slick with puddles of black liquid that pulsed faintly, as though alive.
"The echoes—" Aven gasped.
Rhea shook her head. "They're weakened. For now. But the museum's not dead. The archives… the core… it's still deeper. Still pulsing."
She pressed the scorched blueprints into his hands. "There's another node," she whispered. "Under the museum. Buried in the old transit tunnels. That's where it all converges."
Aven glanced around. The echoes' shadows twitched in the dark, dissolving into static as they tried to reform. The museum itself groaned, the walls flexing and rippling like living flesh.
"How do we reach it?" he asked.
Rhea limped toward a shattered corridor, dragging him along. "There's an old elevator shaft. Come on."
They moved quickly, ducking under fallen beams and leaping over fissures that split the marble floor. Aven clutched the blueprints to his chest, every step sending bolts of pain through his bruised body. But he didn't dare slow down. The museum was shifting around them again, corridors stretching and warping, doors melting into the walls as if trying to seal them in.
Finally they found the elevator shaft—a gaping hole plunging into darkness, cables dangling like rotten vines. Aven peered over the edge and swallowed hard. No lights, no sign of how deep it went.
Rhea didn't hesitate. She gripped one of the cables and swung herself over the edge, sliding down with a grunt of pain. Sparks flew as the frayed metal burned her palms.
"Come on!" she called up.
Aven took a deep breath and followed. The cable burned his hands raw, but he gritted his teeth and kept sliding. Below him, he saw Rhea drop onto a metal platform far beneath, staggering as she landed.
He jumped the last few feet, hitting the platform hard. The impact jarred his spine, but he forced himself upright. The shaft above crackled with distant echoes, glitching shadows peering down at them before fading into the dark.
Rhea held up the cracked crystal device, its glow barely a flicker now. "The tunnel's this way," she panted, leading him into another passage choked with dust and broken machinery.
They moved through the tunnel, the air growing colder with every step. The walls dripped with black fluid that steamed and hissed where it touched the floor. Neon veins pulsed faintly under the concrete, like dying arteries.
Aven felt something brush against his ankle. He jumped back, heart pounding, but saw nothing in the gloom. The shadows seemed thicker here, whispering softly in voices he almost recognized—his mother, his father, Rhea herself—twisting memories he knew weren't real.
"They'll try to break us here," Rhea murmured, squeezing his hand. "Stay focused on me. On us."
He nodded, clutching her hand so tight his knuckles ached.
The tunnel opened into a massive underground chamber, a cavern of broken rails and rusted train cars half-swallowed by the earth. In the center, rising like a tumor from the cracked concrete, was a massive sphere of black metal veined with neon light.
It pulsed slowly, like a monstrous heart.
"The final node," Rhea whispered. "We kill this… and we kill the museum."
A low growl echoed through the chamber. The shadows shifted along the walls, forming vague, glitching shapes that twitched and writhed, mouths opening in silent screams.
Aven stepped forward, rage and fear burning through him. "Then let's finish this," he said.
Rhea nodded, pulling a fresh crystal shard from her coat, its pale blue glow cutting through the dark.
Together, they stepped toward the beating heart of the museum, the echoes shrieking in fury as they closed in.