"The heart reveals itself in fragments long before it speaks in full."
The sky healed too quickly.
That was the unsettling part.
The fracture snapped shut in a single violent motion, but the afterglow lingered like a bruise across the horizon—thin threads of light bleeding outward, refusing to fade.
Aarav pushed himself upright, every muscle shaking like his body was trying to reboot itself without permission.
Meera grabbed his arm. "Easy. You just yelled at a cosmic monarch. Take a second."
Amar snorted. "Honestly? Bold move. Zero survival instinct. Love that for us."
Arin didn't laugh. He didn't even blink.
He stared at the sky with an expression only ancient people who've seen too much get.
"The King sent a fragment of himself," Arin murmured. "A scout. A test. Or a warning."
Aarav steadied his breath. "He wanted to confirm something."
"What?" Meera asked.
Aarav's hand hovered over his chest. The hum inside him was sharper than ever—focused like a blade being forged midair.
"That I'm awake now."
The entire mountain trembled.
A single pulse radiated outward—deep, bass-heavy, rolling across the Vale like thunder underwater.
The boy flinched. "What was that?"
Arin's fingers tightened around his staff. "The land responding to the Convergence attempt. The Vale is forcing us downward."
Amar frowned. "Downward to where?"
Arin pointed behind them—
and the world answered before he could.
The spiral path they'd climbed began to glow—
then break apart—
—not falling,
but unfolding downward like pages flipping in a book.
Meera grabbed the boy before he slipped. "Okay—nope. I'm vetoing this. This is too much."
Arin shook his head. "We have to move. Now. The Vale is redirecting us to the Heart."
Aarav blinked. "What's the Heart?"
Arin met his gaze with a heaviness that said he avoided this moment for centuries.
"The origin point of the first Anchor.
Where the King broke the world.
Where the Convergence began."
Aarav felt the weight of that hit harder than any Echo.
"And the Hollow Echo?" he asked.
Arin studied him. "You think it's gone?"
Aarav shook his head.
He didn't know why.
He just knew.
"It followed the King's presence," Aarav whispered.
Meera's grip on his arm tightened. "You think it went _down there_?"
Aarav nodded.
"Yeah. It's waiting."
Amar groaned. "Of course it is. Why not add more emotional sabotage to the roadmap."
The path finished unfolding, forming a downward spiral into a space beneath the mountain—
a hollow that pulsed with pale light,
not like a cave,
but like the inside of a heartbeat.
Aarav felt the resonance of the place before he even stepped toward it.
It recognized him.
And it was not subtle about it.
Arin stepped beside him. "The Heart is dangerous. It reflects not who you are or who you could be…"
Aarav braced.
"What then?"
Arin looked into the hollow.
"…but what you mean."
Aarav's breath hitched. "Meaning?"
"Identity given purpose," Arin said. "The one thing the Hollow Echo cannot take from you—unless you let it."
Aarav swallowed.
"That sounds worse."
"It is."
Meera rolled her shoulders. "Cool. Down we go."
Amar held up a hand. "Slow. We move as a group."
The boy peered into the glowing hollow. "It looks alive."
Arin nodded. "It is."
Aarav took the first step.
The world reacted instantly.
The hollow lit up like a lung inhaling—
the ground pulsing beneath his foot.
Meera, Amar, Arin, and the boy followed.
The deeper they went, the brighter the light became—
not blinding,
but intimate,
pulling at the edges of their thoughts.
Shadows flickered along the walls.
Not Echoes.
Not memories.
Something else.
Something fluid.
Aarav slowed. "Do you see that?"
Meera squinted. "Yeah. What is—"
A voice drifted up from the hollow.
Not the King's voice.
Not the Echoes.
Not the land.
Aarav's skin went cold.
It was his own voice.
But not any version he knew.
Soft.
Worn.
Older.
_You shouldn't have come._
Aarav froze. "What—who—?"
The shadows shifted—
swirled—
gathered—
And at the base of the hollow, a figure stepped into the light.
Aarav staggered back.
Meera gasped.
Amar swore.
Arin's staff vibrated in his grip.
The boy hid behind Meera.
Because the figure standing in the Heart…
…was Aarav.
Older.
Tired.
Eyes dimmed with years of carrying something heavier than the sky.
But alive.
Human.
Not Hollow.
Not Perfect.
A version of Aarav that had survived something none of them understood.
Aarav's breath caught. "Who are you?"
The older version smiled.
Not cruelly.
Not emptily.
Sadly.
"I'm what happens," he said softly,
"when you win."
A chill rippled through the Heart.
Arin's face was unreadable. "This is impossible."
Older Aarav looked at them—
at the boy,
at Meera,
at Amar,
at Arin—
with an expression that broke something in the present Aarav's chest.
"I'm sorry," the older him whispered.
"You shouldn't be here."
Aarav stared.
"Why?"
Older Aarav took a breath—
and the Heart pulsed like it inhaled with him.
"Because now that you've come this far…"
He looked up toward the ceiling of light.
"…the King can see _both_ of us."
Silence.
Absolute and devastating.
Meera whispered, "Both… of you?"
A shock wave tore through the hollow, shaking the mountain.
Older Aarav shouted—
"RUN!"
But it was too late.
The fracture reopened overhead—
a beam of pure, fractured light slamming into the Heart—
and both Aarav's screamed as their resonances collided.
The Convergence
had truly begun.
"The fragment he uncovered today glowed faintly, refusing to dim."