"Want is a compass long before it becomes a confession."
The final stretch of the spiral path felt longer than everything before it.
Not because the distance was great.
Because every step stripped something away.
The Vale did not threaten him now.
It watched him.
Measured him.
Accepted nothing less than who he was becoming.
Aarav walked at the front, the hum in his chest no longer erratic but steady—like his heartbeat had finally learned its own rhythm. Meera, Amar, Arin, and the boy followed behind him, but even their presence felt like it stood at a respectful distance.
This last ascent belonged to him.
The mountain's surface changed as they climbed:
light thickened into layers,
memory folded over memory,
and the sky above sharpened until it felt closer than the ground.
At the summit, the Hollow Echo waited.
Still.
Patient.
Silent.
Aarav stopped a few meters from it.
For a moment, neither moved.
The wind circled them in slow, spiraling currents—threads of silver drifting across the ground, rising and falling like the Vale was breathing around them.
Meera whispered behind him, "We're here. Whatever happens, we're here."
He nodded once but did not turn.
His Echo spoke.
Not loudly.
Not cruelly.
Just… inevitably.
_You climbed far for a truth you already know._
Aarav's voice was steady. "Then say it."
The Echo stepped forward, its movements too smooth, too hollow to be human.
_You broke long before resonance touched you.
Before fractures.
Before the King ever looked your way._
Aarav's chest tightened—but only for a moment.
He met the Echo's empty gaze.
"I know."
The Echo tilted its head.
For the first time, uncertainty flickered in its shape.
_You admit it?_
"Yes."
The wind stilled.
The Echo's form wavered… just slightly.
_Then why climb? Why return to the wounds that made me?_
"Because you're not the part that broke me," Aarav said quietly.
"You're the part I refused to face."
A pulse of resonance rolled across the summit.
The Echo's voice cracked—barely.
_I am the part that remembers the moment you shattered._
Aarav took a step closer. "Then show me."
The Echo froze.
A single moment passed between them—
sharp, silent, irreversible.
Then—
The Echo touched Aarav's forehead with one cold fingertip.
The world around him dissolved.
Not into darkness.
Into memory.
Aarav stood back in a room he hadn't seen in years.
Dusty floor.
Thin light through a cracked window.
A hand reaching for him—
a hand he could not hold.
A voice breaking into panic as the fracture took its first victim.
A scream swallowed by collapsing space.
His scream.
He felt the panic, the guilt, the helplessness—
the moment he'd buried under years of running.
He felt himself fail.
He felt himself lose someone he couldn't save.
He felt himself break.
And he did not look away.
He let the memory play.
Let the pain wash through him.
Let the truth settle.
When the memory faded and the mountain returned, Aarav did not collapse.
He simply breathed.
Slow.
Steady.
Alive.
The Hollow Echo stood before him again—
but weaker now.
Dimmer.
Edges cracking like old porcelain.
Aarav stepped forward.
"I know what broke me," he said softly.
"And I know what's holding me together now."
The Echo's voice shook.
_What remains?_
Aarav reached out—
not to strike,
not to overpower,
but to reclaim.
"You."
He placed his hand against the Echo's chest.
Light burst outward—
not violent,
not shattering,
but merging.
The Hollow Echo dissolved into a stream of resonance that flowed into Aarav—
not consuming him,
not replacing him,
but returning to where it always belonged.
Pain flared—
bright, sharp, then gone.
Replaced by a warmth he had not felt in years.
Completion.
The cracks inside him sealed.
Not perfectly.
Not cleanly.
But honestly.
Aarav exhaled as the last fragments of the Echo sank into him.
The summit pulsed.
The Vale answered.
The Trial of Origin was over.
Meera ran to him, catching him just as his knees buckled. "Aarav! Are you—?"
He nodded, breathless. "I'm okay. I'm… me."
Amar let out a slow, steady breath. "Good. About time."
The boy hugged him fiercely. "I knew you'd win."
Arin approached last. He looked at Aarav with something close to awe.
"The Vale accepts you," he said. "Completely."
A soft wind circled the summit—
carrying with it the whisper of the world itself.
Anchor.
But the summit did not stay peaceful.
The horizon cracked—
a thin, jagged line of light tearing across the sky.
Meera grabbed Aarav's arm. "What now?"
Arin's face went pale.
"That," he whispered, "is the beginning of the Trial of Convergence."
Aarav stared at the widening fracture—
the place where two worlds began to overlap.
And somewhere within the light—
a shadow moved.
Waiting.
Watching.
Coming.
Aarav steadied his breath.
"I'm ready."
The Vale pulsed in answer.
"He didn't speak what he wanted yet, but the world tilted toward the truth."