The rain refused to stop. It came down in sheets, turning the city into a reflection of itself. Every drop carried a shimmer of memory, faint whispers of voices that once lived, once laughed, once loved.
I walked toward the clocktower, the highest point in Velridge, where time itself seemed to hesitate. The cat trotted behind me, its tail flicking nervously. Its fur was soaked, but it didn't complain. Maybe even it knew that tonight wasn't meant for comfort.
The sphere in my pocket pulsed in rhythm with the tower's clock. It had never done that before.
When I reached the plaza, I saw them waiting. The Bureau's sentinels stood in formation, faceless figures wrapped in glass armor, moving like marionettes without strings. Their eyes glowed faintly blue, the color of erased memories.
The cat growled softly. "I count six of them. Maybe more."
"Then we go through them," I said quietly.
The first sentinel lunged forward. I ducked and pulled the sphere free. Light exploded from it, slicing through the rain like a blade. The sentinel froze mid-motion, its body fracturing into data shards that scattered into the night air.
Another came from the side. The cat leapt, claws flashing. It wasn't a normal animal anymore, maybe it never was. Its movements were too fast, too precise, each strike hitting the gaps between the armor's shimmer.
When the last sentinel fell, the rain turned clear again.
I stared at the tower. The doors were already open.
The cat landed beside me, panting lightly. "You're bleeding," it said.
"I'll live," I replied, though I wasn't sure I meant it.
Inside, the tower was silent. No gears, no ticking, just the faint hum of electricity that didn't seem to come from anywhere. The stairs spiraled upward, and every step I took felt heavier than the last.
Halfway up, I heard the voice.
"You kept your promise," it said softly.
She was waiting near the top. The girl with the red umbrella. Only now, she wasn't holding it. Her hair floated slightly, as if caught in a breeze that didn't exist. Her eyes glowed with faint circuitry, golden veins running beneath her skin.
"You're not human anymore," I whispered.
"Neither are you," she said with a sad smile. "We were both rewritten by what they did. I became the Architect. You became the echo."
I stepped closer. "Tell me the truth. Why did you build the loop?"
"Because I couldn't let you die again," she said. "The Bureau erased your memory after you saved me. I tried to restore you, but something went wrong. You fractured into versions. Each time the city resets, I try to fix it, but each loop erases a part of me."
Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the sphere. "That's the last piece. If we merge it now, I can end the cycle. But one of us will vanish completely."
The clock chimed once. Eleven forty-six.
The cat whispered, "Elior, you have to choose."
I looked at her. "If I give it to you, the city lives. If I use it myself, you come back fully."
She nodded. "And if you hesitate, the loop collapses."
The sphere glowed brighter, as if it could sense the tension in our hearts.
I thought of the first Elior, the one who had failed because he loved her too much to let her go. Maybe I wasn't different from him. Maybe none of us were.
The clock chimed again. Eleven forty-seven.
I pressed the sphere into her hands.
Her eyes widened. "Elior, no."
The light burst outward, swallowing everything. I saw flashes of every life I had lived. The first body, the first death, the first time she smiled at me. Then everything dissolved into white.
When I opened my eyes again, the rain was gone. The city was quiet. The clocktower stood tall, untouched. The streets below were filled with people, real people, laughing, moving, alive.
The cat was sitting on the railing beside me.
"You did it," it said softly. "The loop's over."
I looked down at my hands. They were fading, little fragments of light breaking away like dust in the wind.
"Guess this is the part where the echo fades," I said.
The cat didn't answer. It just watched as I vanished, one memory at a time.
Before everything went dark, I heard her voice again, faint but full of warmth.
"Thank you, Elior. I'll remember you this time."
And then there was nothing but light.