Twin-Moon Metropolis had survived earthquakes, Rift breaches, Guild wars, and more moonfall drills than anyone cared to count.
But it had **never** seen the Forgotten Cradle explode.
Not like that.
By the time Aiden, Lyra, and Rowan emerged from the drifting dust, the eastern industrial sector was already filling with alarm sirens and emergency responders. High-altitude drones buzzed overhead, projecting holographic warnings across the skyline:
**CRADLE BREACH DETECTED —
LEVEL 7 HAZARD PROTOCOL ENGAGED.
ALL GUILDS REPORT.**
Crowds were forming beyond the perimeter fences—civilians pointing, whispering, recording, panicking.
Aiden ignored the noise.
He stood in the open air, breathing deeply, letting the world settle around him. His Harmony-reforged mantle shimmered faintly at the edges—calm, controlled, nothing like the violent flare of the parasite before the Cradle.
Lyra watched him carefully.
She hadn't let go of his hand since they escaped.
Rowan looked between the two of them, then at the smoking ruin.
"Well," he said weakly, "on the bright side, we didn't die."
Aiden didn't answer.
He was staring upward.
At the moons.
At the faint, needle-thin streaks of violet drifting across them.
Lyra followed his gaze and her breath caught.
"Aiden… what is that?"
Rowan squinted.
"Oh perfect. New nightmare threads."
Aiden's jaw tightened.
"It's the Echo's residue. A marker. A claim."
Lyra's fingers tightened around his.
"A claim on what?"
Aiden's voice was barely a whisper.
"On me."
Rowan flailed. "Why can't it just leave you alone?!"
Aiden didn't respond.
Because deep inside him, the parasite stirred—
not hungry,
not malicious,
but aware.
Like an animal that had sensed a predator.
Lyra stepped in front of Aiden, forcing him to meet her eyes.
"You beat it once."
Aiden shook his head slowly.
"No. I beat its shadow. Not the real thing."
Lyra swallowed.
"But you're stronger now. The Cradle changed you."
"Not enough," Aiden murmured.
Before Lyra could speak, a sharp whistle split the air.
Rowan cursed.
"Oh no. No no no—Aiden, look alive. We've got incoming."
Guild sentinels dropped from hovering skimmers—ten of them—forming a tight perimeter around the trio. Their armor shimmered with anti-rift plating, crescent-shaped helmets reflecting the dual moons.
The lead sentinel raised a scanner toward Aiden.
"Identify yourselves."
Rowan jumped forward, flashing his badge.
"Rowan Vance! Official diagnostic officer! These two are with me—"
The scanner beeped urgently.
The sentinel froze.
"Unregistered resonance spike detected."
More beeps.
"Subject Aiden Crowe—Shadow-Parasite readings at Tier Unknown. Classification: Unstable Host."
Aiden tensed, mantle flaring instinctively until Lyra squeezed his hand to ground him.
The sentinels aimed weapons.
"Stand down and remain where you are."
Rowan groaned loudly.
"Oh COME ON, he just saved the entire district!"
Aiden stepped forward calmly.
"We're not a threat."
The sentinel's visor glowed red.
"That is not for you to decide."
Aiden's mantle darkened.
Rowan mouthed frantically, _Don't kill anyone._
Lyra stepped between Aiden and the weapons.
"Stop! He's not unstable—he's stabilizing!"
The sentinel scanned her.
"Anchor-class resonance detected. Unregistered. Illegal."
Lyra went pale.
Aiden's mantle snapped violently.
"Watch your words."
Every sentinel stepped back at once.
Their weapons flickered.
Rowan threw his hands up.
"Okay, everyone take a deep breath! Aiden, buddy, let's not explode the police today—"
Aiden didn't move.
The sentinel captain hesitated…and reached for restraints.
That was a mistake.
A pulse tore through the air.
Not violent.
Not destructive.
But **authoritative**.
A silver-violet wave radiated from Aiden's chest, freezing the sentinels mid-motion. Their scanners shorted out. Visors dimmed. Power armor staggered.
Lyra stumbled into Aiden as the wave passed through her harmlessly.
Rowan pressed himself against a wall.
"Okay WHAT was that?!"
Aiden blinked, dazed.
"I… didn't mean to do that."
A moment of stunned silence.
Then—
The sentinel captain dropped to one knee.
"Crowe…" he whispered. "What _are_ you?"
Aiden's mantle dimmed back to calm.
"A survivor."
The sentinels eventually backed off—none daring to engage. Their scanners were fried, their weapons confused, their commander deeply aware that attacking Aiden would be suicide.
When they retreated, the street fell quiet.
But not empty.
People watched from rooftops and windows.
Drones swirled above like metallic vultures.
Guild towers lit up with alert runes.
Whispers spread through the crowd:
"That's him."
"The anomaly."
"The one who walked out of the Cradle."
"Did you see his eyes?"
"He looks like something out of a prophecy."
"No—he looks like a god."
Aiden hated every word.
Lyra stepped closer to him, sensing how stiff he had become.
"You didn't ask for this," she said gently.
Aiden shook his head.
"No. But I can't avoid it anymore."
Rowan snorted.
"Yeah, well, welcome to celebrity life. Try not to vaporize anyone during interviews."
Lyra elbowed him.
Aiden exhaled.
The air tasted different now.
Not because of smoke.
Because the city wasn't seeing Aiden Crowe anymore.
It was seeing something new.
Something that wasn't supposed to exist.
Lyra touched his cheek lightly.
"You're still you," she whispered.
Aiden looked at her.
"…I hope so."
They had barely stepped away from the Cradle's ruins when a deeper hum vibrated through the air. A shadow passed overhead—not a Rift, not a drone.
A **Guild Skytower Skimmer**, one reserved only for high-ranking officers or political leaders.
Rowan's whole soul deflated in real time.
"Oh wonderful. They brought the big guns."
The skimmer descended in slow, controlled arcs, light refracting off its curved armor plates. Emblems were etched along its sides—
**Marrow Guild.**
The most influential Guild in Twin-Moon Metropolis.
Aiden's jaw set.
"They always come when they smell blood," he murmured.
Lyra slipped her fingers into his.
"Don't provoke them."
"I'm not."
"You're _thinking_ about it."
Rowan cleared his throat and stepped ahead, clearly intending to play diplomat before Aiden did something regrettable.
"Let me handle this. I'm technically still employed by these people."
But before Rowan could take two steps, the skimmer's hatch opened—
And a towering figure stepped out.
Black armor.
Silver cloak.
Breath like frost in summer air.
The **Marrow Guildmaster**.
Lyra's breath caught.
Rowan whispered, "Oh no. Oh no no no. We're screwed. That's _him._"
Aiden said nothing.
The Guildmaster approached with slow, deliberate steps. His eyes—deep violet, almost luminescent—never left Aiden. His presence alone carried pressure; civilians instinctively backed away, and even elite sentinels lowered their gazes.
Lyra squeezed Aiden's hand.
Rowan quietly whispered, "Please don't explode him."
The Guildmaster finally stopped in front of Aiden.
Silence.
Then—
"You survived."
His voice was low, gravelly, but not mocking.
Aiden didn't blink.
"Obviously."
A faint twitch crossed the Guildmaster's jawline.
Not irritation.
Something closer to interest.
"You entered the Cradle," the Guildmaster said.
"Something no one has done in a century."
Aiden met his gaze calmly.
"It was collapsing. Someone had to."
"Not you," the Guildmaster said sharply. "Anyone but you."
Lyra stepped protectively closer.
"What does that mean?"
The Guildmaster's eyes flicked to her—slowly, analytically.
"Anchored resonance," he said.
"Unregistered. Dangerous. Illegal."
Aiden's mantle darkened instantly.
"You'll watch your tone."
Rowan whispered, "And there it is…"
The Guildmaster lifted a hand—not in threat, but in warning.
"Crowe. You do not understand what you've awakened."
Aiden narrowed his eyes.
"I understand more than you think."
The Guildmaster's gaze sharpened.
"You carry a Harmony mutation."
Aiden froze.
Rowan nearly fainted.
Lyra whispered, "How do you know?"
The Guildmaster stared at Aiden like he was reading the shape of his soul.
"Because I have seen only one other person manifest that evolution."
Aiden stiffened.
"…Who?"
The Guildmaster exhaled.
"The one you call the Echo."
Lyra gasped.
Aiden's mantle flared.
"You're mistaken."
"No."
The Guildmaster stepped forward, lowering his voice.
"You and the Echo share the same signature. But there is a difference."
Aiden's breath stilled.
"What difference?"
The Guildmaster looked at Lyra—
then at their intertwined hands—
and finally back at Aiden.
"You have not yet devoured your heart."
Lyra went pale.
Aiden's fingers tightened around hers.
"And I don't intend to," Aiden said coldly.
The Guildmaster nodded once.
"Then you have one task ahead of you."
Aiden crossed his arms.
"And what is that?"
The Guildmaster's cloak billowed as another tremor rippled through the air.
"Survive."
Aiden exhaled sharply.
"That's the plan."
The Guildmaster pointed upward at the violet residue threading across the moons.
"The Echo is coming," he said. "It will target your Anchor first."
Lyra's breath hitched.
Aiden stepped in front of her instinctively.
"No one touches her."
The Guildmaster didn't flinch.
"Then you have less time than you think."
Rowan swallowed.
"How much time?"
The Guildmaster turned away, stepping back toward his skimmer.
"When the moons align," he said, "the Echo will manifest its first projection."
Lyra whispered, "Align? When—?"
The Guildmaster looked back once, eyes like sharpened glass.
"Tonight."
Lyra choked.
Rowan yelped.
Aiden's mantle flared with a violent pulse.
"Why tell me this?"
The Guildmaster stepped into the skimmer.
"Because I underestimate many things," he said.
"But never evolution."
The skimmer lifted into the air—
leaving Aiden, Lyra, and Rowan alone as the city whispered around them.
Aiden stared at the moons as the Guildmaster's words echoed in his chest.
**Tonight.**
Lyra gripped his sleeve.
"Aiden… what do we do?"
Rowan shrugged helplessly.
"I vote we run away and start a bakery."
Aiden didn't smile.
"We train."
Lyra blinked. "Train? Now?"
Aiden met her gaze.
"You awakened your Anchor Core inside a collapsing dimension."
She swallowed.
"I—I know…"
"We refine it," Aiden said. "Together."
Her breath caught.
"Together," she repeated softly.
Rowan clapped his hands.
"Great. You two power up and save the world. I'll go hyperventilate in a corner."
Aiden ignored him.
He reached for Lyra's hand—
gently, deliberately—
and she intertwined her fingers with his.
"Aiden," she whispered, "can you win?"
Aiden looked at the moons.
At the violet threads.
At the sky trembling under a coming fate.
"No," he said quietly.
"Not yet."
Lyra tightened her grip.
"But?"
Aiden finally turned to her.
His mantle flickered—
silver at the edges, balanced, alive.
"But if I'm going to fight the Echo…"
He exhaled slowly.
"…I'm glad you're here."
Lyra's eyes softened.
"Always."
The city did not calm.
It **shifted.**
Twin-Moon Metropolis felt different now—
as if the Cradle's collapse had snapped something loose beneath the pavement,
as if the air had learned a new fear.
Civilians whispered as Aiden passed.
Guild scouts tracked him from the rooftops.
Even the drifting Rift haze seemed to pause, as though inspecting him from the corners of reality.
Lyra stayed close, her steps matching his without hesitation.
"Aiden… is this what it felt like? In the last timeline?"
He shook his head.
"No. This is worse."
Lyra's brows knit. "Why?"
"Because this time," Aiden said, "the world expects something from me."
"And you hate that," Rowan added.
Aiden didn't deny it.
The Harmony Core hummed faintly in his chest, weaving a soft pulse that balanced the parasite's instincts into something controlled—but the new equilibrium was fragile. Every new stare, every whisper, every ripple of attention pressed against it like weight on cracked glass.
Aiden lowered his head.
The Echo was watching.
The city was watching.
The Guilds were watching.
It felt like standing on the edge of a skyscraper—
and feeling the wind push, slowly, insistently, toward the fall.
Lyra noticed.
"Aiden," she said softly, touching his arm, "you don't have to carry this alone."
He wanted to tell her he knew.
He wanted to tell her he wasn't afraid.
But the truth gnawed at him—
"I'm not supposed to exist," he murmured.
"Not like this. Not with this power. Not with this path."
Lyra stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at her.
"Then we walk it anyway."
Aiden blinked.
Her hand slid down his sleeve and intertwined with his fingers.
Her touch anchored him instantly—
a resonance pulse stabilizing the Harmony Core, restoring balance to his mantle.
Lyra smiled faintly.
"You see? Not alone."
His breath steadied.
"…not alone," he echoed.
Rowan threw his arms up dramatically.
"Fantastic emotional moment, yes, wonderful, but can we PLEASE leave the public street before someone records Aiden glowing again?!"
Aiden sighed. "He's right."
Lyra laughed softly.
They moved.
They found temporary refuge in one of the abandoned Guild watchstations near the river district. Windows boarded. Power intermittent. No cameras. No watchers.
Rowan collapsed into a dusty chair.
"Finally. Sanctuary. My lungs are 80% smoke, my heart is 20% trauma, and I'm pretty sure my spine is now shaped like the Cradle collapse."
Aiden ignored him and paced.
Lyra watched him silently for a while before speaking.
"Aiden. Stop."
He froze mid-step.
She walked up to him, placing a hand over his Harmony Core.
"You're pacing because you're thinking too loudly."
His shoulders tensed.
"It's going to attack tonight," Aiden said quietly.
"The Echo's projection. Maybe stronger than the Envoy. Maybe worse."
Lyra nodded.
"I know."
"It's coming for you first."
"I know that too."
Aiden turned away.
"I won't let it touch you."
"You can't protect me from everything," she said gently. "You're one person."
Aiden's jaw tightened.
"I'm not one person," he said.
"I'm twenty-five years of failures wearing the same face."
Lyra didn't step back.
She stepped closer.
"And I am not the Lyra who dies in your memories."
Aiden froze.
Lyra lifted his chin so he met her gaze.
"You saved me in another timeline.
I save you in this one."
The Harmony Core pulsed between them—
silver and violet, syncing perfectly.
Aiden's breath caught.
"You don't even know how strong you are yet," he whispered.
Lyra smiled.
"Then show me."
They moved to the station's central space—an open concrete clearing once used for Rift breach drills. Aiden stood across from Lyra, posture straight, mantle steady, expression focused.
Lyra adjusted her stance nervously.
"What do I do?"
Aiden lifted his hand.
"First lesson:
You don't channel the Anchor Core."
He pointed to her chest.
"You **listen** to it."
Lyra blinked.
"Listen?"
Aiden nodded.
"Close your eyes."
She did.
"Now breathe. Slow and steady."
She did.
"Now reach inward.
Find the warmth in your chest.
The resonance that stabilized me in the Cradle."
Lyra exhaled slowly—and silver light flickered along her collarbones.
"You feel that?" Aiden asked.
"Yes…"
"Good. Now let it flow upward—into your hands."
Lyra raised her palms, light trembling across her skin like tiny fireflies.
Aiden took a careful step forward.
"Now picture me."
Lyra's cheeks warmed.
"I… do."
"Good," Aiden said softly. "Now picture me safe."
Lyra's breath hitched.
The silver glow brightened.
"That," Aiden said, "is shielding."
Lyra opened her eyes—
and a shimmering, translucent silver shell pulsed outward like a heartbeat.
Aiden grinned despite himself.
"That's your first Anchor barrier."
Rowan peeked around a corner.
"Not bad! Ten out of ten! Would hide behind during apocalypse!"
Lyra flushed.
Aiden fought a smile.
"Again," he said.
Lyra nodded.
They repeated the exercise.
Then again.
Then again.
Each time, her barrier grew cleaner, smoother, more stable.
Until—
A sudden tremor shook the station.
Lyra faltered.
Aiden instantly shifted in front of her, mantle rising like a wall.
Rowan leapt behind a desk.
Lyra clutched Aiden's sleeve.
"Aiden—what was that—?"
Aiden looked toward the ceiling.
Toward the sky.
Toward the moons.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"…they're aligning."
The temperature dropped.
Not dramatically.
Not violently.
Just enough to trigger instinct.
Enough to silence birds.
Enough to make shadows grow sharper.
Enough to make the river outside ripple without wind.
Lyra stepped back, fear tightening her breath.
"Aiden…"
He didn't move.
His mantle rose slowly, instinct taking over.
Rowan approached the window and swore loudly.
"You have GOT to be kidding me—!"
Aiden turned.
"What?"
Rowan pointed upward.
"The moons. They're not supposed to align tonight—they're—LOOK!"
Aiden sprinted to the window.
And the sight waiting above the skyline turned his blood cold.
The Twin Moons were shifting positions—
unnaturally fast—
gliding toward each other like magnets drawn under unseen force.
Between them, the violet residue thickened—
coiling—
stretching—
forming a shape.
A human silhouette.
Floating in the sky.
Lyra whispered:
"Aiden… is that—?"
Aiden stepped back from the window, mantle surging violently.
His eyes narrowed.
His breath stilled.
His voice dropped into something darker than fear.
**"It's a projection."**
Lyra grabbed his hand.
"A projection of _what?_"
Aiden looked at her.
Then at Rowan.
Then at the sky.
He whispered:
**"The Echo's true form."**
The silhouette in the sky opened glowing eyes.
The city screamed.