The Titan's final word — Chosen — hung in the air like a verdict.
Mira stared at her arm, the new mark still glowing with raw, unstable light. It pulsed irregularly, like a heartbeat that hadn't learned its rhythm yet. She looked up at Arlen, eyes wide, breath shallow.
"Arlen… I didn't ask for this."
He stepped toward her, but the Titan shifted, a low resonance rolling through the clearing like distant thunder. Not hostile — but protective. As if Mira had suddenly become something precious.
Or dangerous.
Lysa swallowed hard. "This shouldn't be possible. Marks don't just… appear. They're inherited, or bestowed through controlled resonance. This—" She gestured helplessly at Mira's arm. "This is a forced imprint. The Titan did this."
Mira's voice cracked. "Why me?"
Arlen didn't have an answer. The Titan did.
A wave of resonance washed over them, and the System chimed:
Mark Variant Identified: Echo Divergence Stability: 12% Risk Level: Critical Immediate Guidance Recommended.
Mira flinched as the notification flickered across her vision. "Twelve percent? What happens if it hits zero?"
Lysa's silence was answer enough.
The Titan's Directive
The Titan lowered its head again, but this time its resonance wasn't directed at Arlen. It focused entirely on Mira, the air around her shimmering with blue light.
Arlen stepped forward instinctively. "Hey— back off. She's not ready for whatever you're trying to—"
The Titan's resonance hit him like a wall. Not painful, but absolute. A boundary.
Lysa grabbed his arm. "Arlen, stop. It's not attacking her. It's… calibrating."
"Calibrating what?"
"Her mark. If it stabilizes her imprint, she might survive the awakening."
"And if it doesn't?"
Lysa didn't answer.
The Titan extended one massive hand, palm open. Mira hesitated, trembling, then slowly reached out. Her fingers brushed the surface of the Titan's palm — and the world exploded into light.
Mira's Vision
Arlen saw none of it.
But Mira did.
She stood in a vast chamber of crystal and light, the walls humming with resonance. Figures moved around her — tall, marked individuals wearing armor etched with glowing lines. They worked in silence, adjusting massive constructs that resembled the Titan.
A voice echoed through the chamber:
"Divergence Protocol: Initiated."
Mira turned. A woman stood beside her — or something shaped like a woman. Her body was made of shifting Echo light, her face a mask of calm.
"You are not meant to be here," the woman said.
Mira swallowed. "Then why am I?"
"Because the Anchor rejected its bearer."
Mira's stomach dropped. "Arlen."
"The Titan recognized instability in his lineage. Your resonance pattern is… compatible."
"Compatible with what?"
The woman's form flickered.
"With survival."
The chamber cracked like glass.
Back in the Clearing
Mira collapsed to her knees, gasping. Arlen caught her before she hit the ground.
"Mira! Talk to me."
She clutched his shirt, shaking. "It showed me… something. A place. People. And it said—" She swallowed hard. "It said the Anchor rejected you."
Arlen froze. "Rejected me?"
Lysa's eyes widened. "Arlen, your mark— it's stable, but it's not pure. You absorbed Echo residue from the Hunter. That might have corrupted your resonance signature."
Arlen felt a cold weight settle in his chest. "So I'm… defective?"
"No," Lysa said quickly. "Just altered. But the Titan needs a clean anchor. Mira's imprint is new. Untainted."
Mira laughed weakly. "Untainted? It's at twelve percent stability."
The Titan's resonance pulsed again, and Mira's mark flared brighter.
Stability: 18% Calibration in Progress.
Arlen exhaled. "It's helping you."
"Or preparing me," Mira whispered.
"For what?" Arlen asked.
The Titan answered.
"Convergence Point."
The Fracture Widens
A crack tore across the sky — not a small pulse this time, but a jagged line stretching from horizon to horizon. The air vibrated with a low, bone-deep hum.
Lysa's voice trembled. "It's accelerating. The Convergence is happening faster than projected."
Arlen looked up. "Because the Titan is here?"
"No," Lysa said. "Because the Titan is late."
The ground shook violently. Trees bent away from the fracture as if bowing to something unseen. The Titan straightened, its form flickering with urgency.
"Anchor. Now."
Mira staggered back. "I don't know how!"
The Titan extended its hand again, but this time the gesture was different — not a calibration, but an invitation.
Arlen stepped between them. "If she does this, what happens to her?"
The Titan's resonance dimmed.
Not an answer.
A warning.
Lysa whispered, "Anchoring means binding her mark to the fracture. She'll become a stabilizer. A living conduit."
Arlen's voice cracked. "And what does that do to her?"
Lysa hesitated. "If she's strong enough… she survives."
"And if she's not?"
Mira looked at her trembling hands. "I think we already know."
The Choice No One Wanted
The Titan waited.
The sky cracked wider.
Mira looked at Arlen, eyes shining with fear and something else — resolve.
"Arlen… I don't want to die. But if I don't do this, everyone dies."
He grabbed her shoulders. "We'll find another way."
"There isn't time."
"Mira—"
She pressed her forehead to his. "You saved me more times than I can count. Let me save someone too."
Arlen's throat tightened. "I can't lose you."
"You won't," she whispered. "Not if you pull me back."
Lysa stepped forward. "I can guide the resonance. I can keep her stable. But Arlen— she'll need you. Your mark is linked to hers now. If she anchors alone, she'll burn out."
Arlen looked at Mira's trembling hand.
Then at the Titan's outstretched palm.
Then at the sky tearing open above them.
He made his choice.
The Anchor Awakens
Arlen took Mira's hand.
Her mark flared.
His mark answered.
The Titan's resonance surged, enveloping them both in blinding blue light.
The System screamed:
Dual Anchor Protocol Initiated Warning: Resonance Overload Imminent Synchronize or Terminate
Mira squeezed his hand. "Don't let go."
"Never."
The Titan lowered its hand.
They stepped into the light together.
And the world shattered.