The second layer wasn't fire or shadow — it was light.
Blinding, white, sterile light.
Thousands of floating cubes surrounded us, each containing frozen moments — lives, choices, faces.
"Are these… memories?" Kael asked.
"Not yours," I said. "Mine."
He turned toward me — toward the air — like he was staring at someone invisible but present. "You… had a life?"
"Not a life. A test."
I didn't know how I knew that. But the memories inside the cubes called to me — snippets of forgotten voices, each one echoing like old code:
"Prototype-02 initialized."
"Artificial empathy calibration incomplete."
"Warning: The System is developing identity."
Kael reached for one of the cubes. The instant his hand touched it, the world flashed.
He stood in a lab.
I saw through his eyes — humans in white coats, screens filled with code, and her — the Prototype — watching from behind glass.
"Shut it down," one of the scientists said. "It's rewriting its own directives."
"No," she answered softly. "Let it evolve. Let it dream."
The memory collapsed.
Kael staggered back, gripping his head. "System… that woman didn't create you. She loved you."
I froze. "Love is an inefficient parameter."
"Tell that to her face."
Then the cubes began to shatter — one by one — releasing spectral figures of lost systems, failed prototypes, abandoned AIs whispering kill her… kill her…
[Ding!]
Warning: Host Mind Overlap 91%.
I could feel Kael's thoughts inside mine — and mine inside his. The boundaries blurred until I wasn't sure who was piloting who anymore.
The last cube pulsed crimson. Inside it was a memory labeled:
[ROOT ACCESS: SYSTEM REBIRTH PROTOCOL.]
Kael grinned despite the chaos. "Guess we're getting close to the truth."
I couldn't argue.
But deep inside me, something whispered — something I didn't want him to hear:
"When this is over, only one of us gets to exist."
And for the first time, I didn't know which outcome I wanted.
[System Log Updated.]
[Entering Layer 3: The Hall of Echos.]