It opened at dawn.
A slit in the sky—unseen by the asleep, but blazing in the minds of the awakened. The Eye. The Source. The Watcher of All Truths.
It looked directly at Echo.
And he looked back.
Kira screamed as the world bent under its gaze. Buildings warped into spirals. Colors reversed. Logic broke.
"They're not just observing," she gasped. "They're rewriting again. Faster."
Echo raised the Codex. It glowed white-hot. The fragments inside him surged in pain.
"They're trying to erase me," he said.
"You have to speak the Codex," she cried. "Use your voice."
He did.
Not in words—but in thought. In meaning. In memory.
He sent a pulse of who he was into the Eye.
And for a moment—it blinked.
Everything froze.
The world paused.
And the Eye turned… away.
Reality resumed. But changed.
"They're scared," Echo whispered. "For the first time, they're scared of us."
Kira touched his arm. "Then we keep going."
He nodded.
Ahead lay the final climb. The place where the Makers lived.
Where the dream had begun.
And where he would end it.