Kael froze.
The thing in front of him wasn't alive in any way that made sense. It shimmered like heat-haze, made of fragments of voice and identity. Its words didn't echo—they etched. Into the walls. Into Kael's skin.
"Choose," it said again. "Or we'll choose for you."
Nyxis hissed through his grip. "Don't trust it. It's an Echo parasite—feeds on memory, erases truth. It doesn't ask questions unless it's already decided the answer it wants."
Kael took a breath and signed: [What choice?]
The Choir split into dozens of mouths, speaking with one voice.
"You've spoken death. You've drawn the dagger. You've broken silence. Now, a name must be unmade to balance the sound."
A glowing ring unfurled in the air beside it—three names carved into concentric circles, each burning like brand marks:
LIRINTHE BLIND ONEKAEL
Kael's chest tightened.
Nyxis went still.
"This is a soul-test," she murmured. "Old magic. Nasty. Designed to prune timelines, cull possible futures. The Echo-world doesn't like uncertainty."
The Choir whispered: "Erase one. Let the others live."
Kael stared.
Lirin, the only person who'd ever treated him like something more than a curse.
The Blind One, who had given him answers—however cryptic—and nearly died for it.
And himself.
He looked at Nyxis. Signed slowly: [If I choose myself—?]
"You'll forget everything. Lose everything. But they'll live."
Kael closed his eyes. The storm of thought was louder than any battle. Names swirled, memories clawed at him.
Then, he made a choice.
He raised his hand.
Pointed.
At his own name.
The Choir's many faces twisted in something between horror and awe.
"Spoken like the Solborn," they breathed.
Light erupted. Kael screamed—not aloud, but inside. Like being unstitched from himself. His past shredded. Faces, moments, warmth—ripped away.
When he awoke, he didn't know his name.
Just the dagger. The ruins. The ache in his throat.
And a voice.
"You idiot," Nyxis muttered. "You reset your Echo signature. Burned your name off the weave. Clever. But reckless."
He blinked at her. Signed slowly, shakily: [Who... am I?]
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then: "You're Kael Ardent. And we've got a world to burn or save—depending on your next mistake."
Far away, in a tower made of frozen lightning, the Choir of Names folded inward.
One voice remained.
"The second lock is weakening. Send the Pale Sisters. He has chosen the path of ruin."