"Not all echoes repeat the past; some whisper the future."
The convergence gate didn't wait politely like a normal mystical existential threat.
It _thrummed,_ pulsing like someone had embedded a heartbeat inside a tear in reality and hit "unmute."
Aarav stood in front of it, chest still stinging from where the Echo touched him.
Every pulse from the gate synced with that burn.
A clean little reminder from the universe:
Congrats king, you're in the on-boarding funnel for becoming a metaphysical disaster.
Meera tightened her grip on his arm. "If that thing jumps out at you again, I'm kicking its face in."
Amar scoffed. "It doesn't have a face."
"I'll kick whatever it has," she snapped.
Arin ignored both of them because he was already in full crisis-management mode. "This is the Vale's Trial of Reflection. Every Anchor who ever entered the Vale faced a version of themselves. But yours… is unusually complete."
Aarav rubbed his chest. "Yeah. No kidding."
Arin gave him a look that was way too HR-performance-evaluation for this situation. "How do you feel?"
"Like someone copy-pasted me, deleted the personality, and left the trauma," Aarav said. "You know. Just vibes."
The boy hugged Meera's leg. "Do we have to go in there?"
Amar crouched beside him. "We're sticking together. Nobody's going anywhere alone."
The gate pulsed again—
but this time, the light didn't just glow.
It reached.
A single tendril of shimmering resonance extended from the tear, like a hand offering… something.
Aarav felt the pull instantly.
Cold, quiet, magnetic.
Arin swore under his breath. "Move back. That's not an invitation—it's a claim."
Aarav didn't move.
Because he couldn't.
The gate wasn't pulling his body.
It was pulling his _resonance._
Like it recognized him deeper than his own name.
The hum in his chest answered, syncing to the gate like it had found a long-lost frequency.
Aarav whispered, "It knows me."
Meera's voice cracked. "Then lie to it. Tell it you're busy."
Arin stepped between Aarav and the tendril. "This gate leads to the Echo Chamber. It isolates potential selves—shows you the versions of you the world fears, the ones you fear, the ones you could become."
Amar muttered, "Corporate multiverse with terrible UX."
Arin lifted his staff. "Aarav, listen. Once you enter that gate, none of us can follow."
Meera grabbed Aarav's hands like she was anchoring him to the physical world. "No. No solo quests. That's how characters die."
Aarav tried to smile, failing miserably. "This isn't optional."
Arin nodded grimly. "The Vale has already chosen him. The path is locked."
Amar stood. "Then what are we supposed to do? Wait out here and pray?"
"Yes," Arin said simply.
"Because inside the Echo Chamber, he will face what no one else can touch."
The gate pulsed again—
brighter, stronger.
Aarav felt it slicing through him—
not painfully,
but deeply.
Like it was checking file integrity on his existence.
He stepped forward.
Meera jumped in front of him. "Aarav, stop. Look at me."
He did.
Her eyes were steady, even if her voice shook. "You're not doing this because the land wants you to. You're doing it because you choose it. Right?"
Aarav inhaled slowly, trying to ground himself in her presence.
"Yes," he said. "I choose this."
She nodded once, jaw tight. "Then come back."
Amar clapped a heavy hand on Aarav's shoulder. "You beat the first Echo. Beat this one too."
Aarav's eyes lifted to Arin. "What if I lose?"
Arin didn't sugarcoat it. "Then the Echo leaves. And you stay."
Aarav blinked. "Stay? As in—"
"As in you won't be you anymore."
Perfect.
Totally inspiring.
The gate surged—
and Aarav felt the decision leave him.
The Vale didn't ask now.
It _pulled._
He stepped into the tear.
The world folded sideways—
light bending,
sound collapsing,
gravity deciding it had better things to do—
And then everything snapped into place.
Aarav landed on a surface that wasn't a surface.
It felt like standing on the memory of ground.
The Echo Chamber stretched out in all directions—
a horizon made of mirrored light,
shifting, endless,
impossibly still.
Aarav exhaled.
His breath echoed.
Then—
Footsteps.
Not behind him.
Not ahead.
Everywhere.
And out of the shimmering horizon walked…
Aarav.
Not one Echo.
Not the hollow version.
Not the fractured future.
Countless.
A dozen.
Two dozen.
Hundreds.
Each with tiny variations—
different postures,
different shadows in their eyes,
different burdens in their stance.
Aarav staggered backward.
"What… what is this?"
The Echoes spoke in one unified voice:
_We are every version of you
the world thinks you will become._
Aarav's pulse spiked. "There's so many—"
_Because you are still undecided._
A single Echo stepped forward—
taller, sharper, carrying a cold certainty in its movements.
Not the Hollow Echo.
Not the Child Echo.
Something newer.
More dangerous.
_Only one of us walks out of this chamber._
Aarav swallowed. "And the one who does… becomes me?"
_No,_ the leading Echo said, stepping closer.
_The one who leaves the chamber becomes the Anchor._
Aarav's heart hammered.
"So I'm fighting for my identity."
The Echo nodded.
_No. You are fighting for your future._
All the Echoes raised their hands—
light gathering,
resonance vibrating,
a wave building across the chamber.
Aarav steadied his breath.
"I'm not losing myself to any of you."
The chamber pulsed once—
acknowledgment,
electric,
ancient.
The leading Echo smiled with his face.
_Then prove you are worth being._
The trial began.
"The resonance faded, but its direction stayed with him."