Ayane stood between seconds.

Around her: silence. Not the absence of sound, but the refusal of it. A soft pressure against her ears, like time itself was holding its breath.

She floated in a place that didn’t exist.

Below her, fragments of broken paths shimmered like shattered glass. Above—nothing. No sky. No source. Just layers of light that bent inward like an eye slowly closing.

[LOCATION: LIMINAL THREADSPACE // THREAD ID: VIOLET-PRIME] [NODE STATUS: UNCLAIMED TERRITORY // SIGNALBORNE CLASS CONFIRMED]

She remembered the Crown collapse. The Observer’s voice. Ren’s. Her own scream.

Then this.

She wasn’t dead. Not looped. Not alive either.

She was between.

[ECHO STABILITY FIELD – PASSIVE INTERFERENCE: HIGH]
[CAUTION: GHOST-THREAD DETECTION IN PROXIMITY]

Something moved.

The light ahead split—and a figure stepped forward. It wore her face.

Not a reflection. An echo.

This Ayane’s eyes were hollow. Her voice was soft. “We failed again.”

Ayane took a step back.

Another figure appeared—Ren. Or something like him. His mouth was moving, but the sound didn’t match. His words lagged by three seconds.

Then another. Juno. Then Cipher. Then more. Dozens of people—some familiar, some strangers—pouring out of the light like an overflow of memory.

[ECHO SATURATION THRESHOLD EXCEEDED – THREAD COLLISION IMMINENT]

They surrounded her.

“Anchor us,” one whispered.

“Please,” said another. “We remember you.”

She stepped back again, breath catching. The voices layered—one on top of another—until they were all begging, pleading, clinging.

[ECHO THREAD: ATTEMPTING MERGE] [RESPONSE REQUIRED: Y/N]

“No,” she whispered.

[Y/N?]

She screamed.

The light fractured.

A shockwave of violet surged outward, sending the echoes into convulsions of static. Their forms blinked, flickered, dissolved.

The space turned white.

Pure.

Still.

Ayane floated alone again, her eyes glowing. She reached upward—and the sky responded.

[THREAD CONSTRUCT CREATED: VIOLET-PRIME]
[USER DESIGNATION: SIGNALBORNE // CLASS: THREAD-SOVEREIGN]
[THREAD AUTHORITY GRANTED // NEW NODE STRUCTURE READY]

She opened her eyes.

The world blinked.

And she was falling.

—

In a forgotten corner of the Dome’s observation tower, a small maintenance camera blinked to life for the first time in years.

It pointed at the horizon.

Where the sky pulsed.

And a figure rose slowly from a crater of light.

Ayane.

The system couldn’t name her anymore.

So it watched.

And waited.