The maintenance tunnel reeked of rust and decay. Kael pressed against the corroded wall, the Prime Catalyst's pulse quickening against his chest. Each heartbeat brought flashes—memories that weren't his own bleeding through like fragments of broken glass.
*Crystal spires catching starlight. A child's voice calling his name.*
"Movement up ahead," Jorik whispered, crawling back from the tunnel mouth. The grizzled Remnant survivor's scarred face was tense. "Patrol's passed, but there's something you need to see."
They moved deeper into the tunnels, past pipes that had once carried Vein energy throughout the capital. The walls gradually changed, becoming smoother, older. Lysara ran her fingers along the seamless surface.
"Pre-Sundering," she breathed. "This section predates the occupation."
The Catalyst grew warm. Then hot. Kael stumbled as another wave of alien memory crashed through him—*standing in darkness, touching cold stone, feeling reality bend around his fingertips*—
"Kael." Lysara caught his arm. "Stay with us."
He blinked hard, forcing the visions back. "I'm fine."
But he wasn't. The deeper they went, the stronger the memories became. By the time they reached the hidden chamber, Kael was barely himself anymore.
The murals covered every surface, their colors impossibly vibrant. Riftborne in their prime, manipulating matter and energy with casual grace. But the central image stopped him cold.
A figure that could have been his twin stood before a massive crystal, reality bending around him like water. Ancient script ran beneath the scene, the words seeming to writhe when he looked directly at them.
"'Here lies the Anchor of Echoes,'" Lysara translated quietly. "'May his sacrifice light the path—'"
"—for those who come after," Kael finished. The words had spilled from his lips unbidden.
Lysara went very still. "How did you know that?"
The memory hit him like a physical blow. Standing in this exact spot. Touching the crystal. Feeling his soul *fracture* across time and space, scattering seeds of himself into the future—
"I've been here before." His voice sounded strange to his own ears. "Haven't I?"
"Not you," Lysara said carefully. "But yes."
Another wave of memory crashed through him. The original Kael—*himself but not himself*—making an impossible choice. Fragmenting his essence to create echoes across generations. Each one carrying a piece of the whole.
"How many?" he whispered.
"You're the last," Lysara said gently. "The Aetherlords have been hunting Echoes for centuries, killing them before they could awaken. You're the only one who made it this far."
The magnitude of it staggered him. All those lives, all those deaths—versions of himself scattered across time, murdered before they could understand what they were. "You knew. You've always known what I was."
"My family has guarded Echo-children for three hundred years." She looked away. "I've been watching you since birth."
Pieces clicked into place. The convenient timing of her arrival. The way she'd known exactly how to guide his awakening. "The relic wasn't calling to you. You were already there."
"Yes."
A distant rumble echoed from above—heavy machinery, moving fast. Jorik appeared at the chamber entrance, urgent.
"Excavation teams," he hissed. "They're tearing up the district. Someone detected the energy surge."
But Kael was still staring at the mural, more memories surfacing. The original had possessed perfect foresight. He'd seen every path, every possibility. Including—
"The weapon," Kael said suddenly. "The Aetherlords didn't build it. They found it."
Lysara frowned. "What are you—"
"It was already here. Waiting." The terrible truth unfolded in his mind like a poison flower. "The Sundering wasn't genocide. It was harvest."
"Kael, we need to move," Jorik urged as the rumbling grew louder.
But Kael couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. The full scope of the original's plan was becoming clear, and it was monstrous. "Every Echo that dies makes the weapon stronger. That's why he scattered us across time. Not to fight the Aetherlords—to feed their machine."
The color drained from Lysara's face. "That's impossible. Why would he—"
"Because the weapon isn't meant to destroy us." Kael's eyes blazed with golden light. "It's meant to transform us. Force an evolution we'd never choose willingly."
The ceiling shook. Dust rained down as the first explosions echoed from nearby tunnels.
"Transform us into what?" Lysara demanded.
Kael looked at the mural again, seeing it with new understanding. The crystal wasn't a prison—it was a chrysalis. And something vast and alien was almost ready to emerge.
"Something that can survive what's coming next," he said quietly.
Jorik grabbed his shoulder. "Whatever epiphany you're having, it needs to wait! They've found us!"
The sound of boots echoed from multiple tunnels. Aetherlord forces, closing in from every direction. Kael felt the Catalyst pulse against his chest, responding to his rising panic.
"We're not getting out of here," he realized. "This was always where it would happen."
"Where what would happen?" Lysara snapped.
Kael smiled, and for a moment his face wore an expression centuries old. "The final phase."
He pressed his palm against the central mural. The crystal in the image began to glow.
Above them, reality started to scream.
**End of Chapter 7**
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