There was no sleep after that.
Elior sat by the window, staring into the city night that seemed—somehow—off. The lights blinked slower. The sky seemed thicker, heavier. Even the sounds of distant traffic were muffled, like he was already partially detached from this reality.
Nara hadn't left his side. She'd made coffee, scanned every inch of the glowing spiral, uploaded the screenshots to an encrypted server—just in case. Neither of them said what they were truly thinking:
This was no longer about them. This was something global. And it had already begun.
"Look at this," she said, sliding a data sheet toward him. "This spiral? It's not just a symbol. It matches the Fibonacci resonance of bio-wave harmonics."
"In English?"
"It's… a key," she said, eyes wide. "A frequency lock. Someone—or something—is tuning us. Maybe using us as antennas. And you're the clearest frequency they've found."
He nodded slowly. "The dreams. The visions. The countdowns I kept hearing."
"What countdowns?"
He didn't answer at first. Then he exhaled.
"Every time I close my eyes, there's a ticking sound. A voice says, 'You are Cycle 7.5.3.3.4. Host Seed Interface initiated. Protocol: Arrival.' I didn't think it was real."
Nara went pale. "That matches the numbers in the protocol log. Protocol: Arrival is phase two."
Elior stood. "And phase one?"
She hesitated. "Preparation. Implantation."
He felt his chest tighten. "So I've already been infected?"
"No," she said, stepping closer. "You've been chosen."
---
Elsewhere: Sector 4, Classified Archive (Redline)
Three black-suited figures stood over a projection of Elior's face.
"He's activating," said the first.
The second tapped her tablet. "Seed Anchor Sync Level: 76%. Auto-Trigger Event in less than 48 hours."
The third, expressionless, finally spoke. "And the others?"
"They're still dormant."
"Wake them."
"But that breaks protocol—"
"Protocol," the figure growled, "has already been compromised."
---
Back in the Apartment
Elior's phone buzzed. It wasn't a call or message. It was an alert from an app he'd never downloaded—a pulsing white seed icon overlaid with glitching lines of binary.
He tapped it.
The screen turned black. A countdown appeared: 47:53:29 and ticking.
A message followe
"What does that mean?" he whispered.
But then—he did remember.
Just flashes, fragments—but they burned.
A child in a sterile tank, monitored by voices. A glass chamber that pulsed with liquid light. A name they whispered over and over: "Project EchoHost."
He collapsed against the wall, gasping. Nara held him. "Elior, breathe. What did you see?"
"I wasn't born in that hospital my parents said I was."
He looked at her, jaw clenched.
"I don't think I was born at all."
---
Meanwhile…
In a chamber far beneath the Swiss Alps, ancient machines hummed back to life.
Cryopods began to glow.
Host seeds were waking.
And the Protocol whispered through the network again:
> BEGIN PHASE TWO.