The silence after Selvere's words was almost unbearable. Not empty—dense, like the pressure before a storm. Kael stood still, gaze locked on the Archon's serene face, but his thoughts were turning like wheels grinding against stone.
Behind him, Lira's grip on his arm tightened.
"No," she said. "You don't get to make this sound like salvation."
Selvere turned slightly. Not surprised. Not offended. Just watching.
Lira stepped forward until she stood beside Kael, between him and the projection's centerline.
"You're afraid," she said. "Not of Kael. Not even of Rin. You're afraid that if he remembers fully—truly—then people will start asking why we've let Houses rule our memories for centuries."
Selvere said nothing.
"You keep balance the same way a dam keeps balance—by holding back floodwaters that were never meant to stop."
Kael looked at her. Her face was pale, but her voice was firm.
"You promised me," she said, softer now, turning to him. "Back then, when you sealed it all. You said the world had to need you before you'd come back. And it does. It needs you. Not because you're Rin. Not because you're powerful. Because you're the only one who might not flinch."
He didn't speak.
Lira's voice dropped even lower.
"If you let him take this from you again, you'll never get the choice back. You'll spend the rest of your life wondering if what you are is real, or something he shaped."
Kael looked past her at Selvere.
The Archon still said nothing. He didn't move. But something about his expression—not angry, not desperate—expectant.
Like he'd already seen the outcome before.
Kael felt his chest tighten.
He wasn't sure if he was choosing for the first time—or simply repeating the loop of his former self.
He closed his eyes.
"I need to think."