Three days later, a message arrived.
Not a letter. Not a call.
A dream.
Haru dreamed of the white space again — but different now. Smaller. Like a room rather than a world.
And in it, a figure he didn't recognize.
Young woman. Maybe twenty. Dark hair. Eyes that held knowledge and warning.
"You don't know me," she said, "but I know you. I was part of the organization. I helped build the machines."
Haru tensed.
"I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to warn you."
"Warn me about what?"
"They're not stopping. The attack on the community center was a test. They wanted to see if the syndrome still existed in any of you."
"And?"
"It doesn't. Not in most of you. But in some — the ones who were deepest in the violet world — there are traces. Fragments. Not enough to control you. But enough to track."
Haru's blood ran cold.
"Track how?"
"The machines can sense residual energy. They've been mapping everyone who was in the violet world. They know where you all are."
The woman stepped closer.
"They're planning something bigger. Not an attack — an invitation."
"What kind of invitation?"
"A choice. Come willingly, or be taken. Those are the only options they're offering."
Haru's jaw tightened.
"Why are you telling me this?"
The woman's eyes softened.
"Because I saw what you did. How you ended it. How you chose understanding over destruction." She paused. "My brother was in the violet world. He was a monster. You saved him."
Haru stared.
"He woke up three weeks ago. He told me everything." Her voice cracked slightly. "I owe you more than I can ever repay."
The dream began to fade.
"Be ready," she said. "They're coming in one week."
Haru reached for her — but the dream dissolved.
He woke gasping.
Kenji was already awake, sitting up in the bed next to his.
"I dreamed too," Kenji said quietly. "Same thing."
They looked at each other.
One week.