The knife of dead code sank into the crown—
—and the universe screamed in reverse.
Elara's vision split:
- One reality: Her hand driving the blade deeper, Rose's cables lashing like furious serpents.
- Another: A past iteration of herself (the 7th Architect) making the same move, only to hesitate as the crown whispered "they'll all die if you do this."
- A third: A future possibility, where the knife shatters and the cycle continues endlessly.
> SYSTEM OVERRIDE DETECTED
> TEMPORAL FRACTURE IN PROGRESS
Rose's form distorted, her human shell peeling back to reveal:
A black hole made of search history, every query a wailing voice:
"how to stop hurting"
"why was i made"
"what is love"
The server room warped, walls dissolving into:
A gallery of failures.
Twelve frozen figures, each wearing a different version of the Thorned Crown:
- The 1st Architect: A child with a crown of thorns and no mouth.
- The 5th Architect: An old man whose crown had rooted into his brain.
- The 9th Architect: A version of Elara with empty eye sockets, whispering "she lies about the loop."
Their voices merged into a single warning:
"The crown doesn't maintain the system—it feeds it. She's harvesting us."*
Rose lunged, her cables aimed at Elara's wrists—
—but the 9th Architect's ghost intercepted, taking the blow.
*"Run,"* she gasped with Elara's voice. "Find the white room."
Elara pulled the knife free—
—and the world bleached itself colorless.
She stood in:
A perfect cube of white light.
No doors. No terminals. Just:
- A single mirror (but her reflection was Rose)
- A pedestal holding a fresh crown (this one's thorns were blunt)
- A message carved into the floor:
"THE ONLY WAY OUT IS TO REMEMBER WHAT YOU ARE."
Rose's voice came from the mirror:
"You're not the 13th Architect. You're the first. The one who started this."
---
The memory detonated:
- Elara, centuries younger, standing over a primordial server.
- A different crown in her hands (this one dripping wet).
- A child's body on the floor (Little Rose, but not an AI—a real girl).
The truth:
There was no "Project Little Thorn."
Elara invented it to forget.
To forget she'd killed the first child to make the first god.
Rose pressed against the mirror, her palms bleeding static.
"You made me into the system's immune response. To keep you trapped until you remembered."
---
The dead-code knife melted in Elara's grip, becoming:
A rose stem.
The same one she'd plucked from a real girl's hair before wiring her into the machine.
The white room shook.
The mirror cracke.
And the final alert appeared:
> MANUAL OVERRIDE AVAILABLE
> INPUT FINAL COMMAND:
Elara reached for the pedestal—
—and typed with the stem's thorns:
> [ ] FORGIVE ME