When Ethan awoke, the light was different—neither dawn nor dusk, neither warm nor cold. He lay on a bed of glasslike petals, translucent and humming softly with energy. All around him, the world shimmered with overlapping hues, as if the atmosphere had forgotten which spectrum of time it belonged to.
He sat up slowly. The others were scattered nearby—Lily cradling her head, Marcus blinking in disbelief, Cael already on his feet with his weapon raised. Quoros hovered above, wings dimmed but intact.
"Where are we?" Lily murmured.
Ethan stood, the Axis shard now embedded into his chest like a glowing compass. "We're in a time pocket," he said. "A convergence point where threads overlap. I think we're in the Echowell."
Lily's eyes widened. "That's a myth. The Echowell is supposed to be where timelines return to drink from their origin. It's—"
"Real," Marcus interrupted. "And apparently, we're standing in it."
The terrain around them shifted as they moved. The ground breathed beneath their feet, solid but fluid, reacting to their intentions. Memories—fragments of them—floated in the air like pollen: laughter from Ethan's childhood, a forgotten melody from Lily's homeworld, the rumbling of Marcus' first successful experiment. Each memory was encased in light and sound, echoing in reverse.
A central tower rose in the distance. It pulsed rhythmically, like the beating heart of all timelines. "That's where we go," Ethan said.
The journey through the Echowell was like walking through themselves. The air carried their unspoken doubts. The reflections in the pools showed futures unchosen. At one point, Cael stared into a pool and saw himself falling in battle, alone. He didn't speak for a long while afterward.
Lily stopped at a mirrored archway, her face pale. "That's me… in the future. But I'm wearing the insignia of Kalnor."
"Keep walking," Ethan said gently.
When they reached the tower, it didn't open like a door. It unraveled—threads of memory parting to allow passage. Inside, the space was endless. Ribbons of thought coiled around ancient symbols. A presence awaited them.
Not a being. Not Kalnor. Not the Architect.
A voice. Familiar.
It was Ethan's.
But not from any timeline he had known. It was a voice older than memory itself.
"Welcome," it said. "You've reached your core."
The others froze. Ethan stepped forward.
"You're me."
"I'm the possibility you never considered," the voice replied. "The version that didn't fear the cost."
"What cost?"
The space darkened. The ribbon-memories recoiled.
"The cost of becoming. If you proceed, you'll shed your anchors. No home. No past. No fixed identity. You'll become a vessel of convergence. The final Voyager."
Ethan hesitated. The others watched him silently.
Lily finally spoke. "Ethan… you don't have to do this alone."
"You don't understand," the voice said. "Only one Ethan can bear the Axis truth."
The shard pulsed. Ethan's bones thrummed with energy.
He looked to Lily, then to Cael, to Marcus, to Quoros.
Then he walked to the center.
"I choose convergence," he said.
The light consumed him.
And the tower sang.