The two paths did not wait for me.
They pulsed softly, as if responding to my hesitation. The descending route shimmered with layered light, its depth impossible to judge, while the shadowed corridor breathed quietly, its darkness dense but contained—like a held breath rather than an abyss.
I stood at the center of the sigil, pearl clenched in my palm, residual figures hovering just beyond the boundary. They had not moved closer, yet their attention pressed against my skin like static.
"You said choose," I said slowly. "But you didn't say what either choice means."
EG did not answer immediately. He watched the paths instead, his expression unreadable, eyes reflecting both light and shadow in equal measure.
"Because meanings change," he said at last. "Consequences don't."
That wasn't comforting.
I exhaled, forcing myself to think. "If I go down, I continue. If I go sideways, I stabilize. Those were your words."
"Yes."
"So continuing means what—more layers? More pressure? More… remembering?" I hesitated on the last word.
"Eventually."
"And stabilizing?"
EG finally looked at me. "Means slowing the echo."
The phrase sent a strange ripple through my chest. "Slowing it so it doesn't chase me?" I asked.
"No," he replied quietly. "So it doesn't outrun you."
The platform vibrated again, subtle but persistent. The residuals reacted, their outlines flickering more violently, as if time itself were fraying around them.
I glanced back at the shadowed corridor. It felt safer. Narrow, yes—but contained. Manageable.
Too manageable.
"You're not telling me something," I said.
EG's gaze sharpened slightly. "I have told you more than most are ever allowed to hear at this stage."
"That's not an answer."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Stabilization delays integration."
My heart skipped. "Integration of what?"
He didn't respond.
LThe pearl flared, heat searing briefly through my fingers. Images flashed—fragmentary, uncooperative. A broken sigil. A tower half-collapsed. Someone screaming my name in relief, not fear.
I pulled my hand back instinctively, shaking. "You see?" I said. "This is what I mean. Pieces keep surfacing whether I want them to or not."
"Yes," EG said. "Because the echo has already recognized you."
The residuals stirred at those words, their forms bending inward, drawn subtly toward the sigil again.
I swallowed hard. "And stabilizing stops that?"
"It contains it," he said carefully. "For a time."
I studied him. "For how long?"
"Long enough to breathe," he answered. "Long enough to learn control instead of endurance."
That sounded reasonable. Sensible. Everything in me wanted to choose the shadowed corridor, to step sideways instead of down, to buy time.
But something else tugged at me.
The weight in my chest—the same one I'd felt under the streetlamp, staring at a shadow that refused to behave.
"If I stabilize," I said slowly, "what happens to them?" I gestured toward the residuals.
EG followed my gaze. "They will remain here."
"Like this?"
"Yes."
The figures stood motionless now, as if listening. One tilted its head farther than the others, its shape thinning, almost unraveling at the edges.
"They didn't choose wrong," I murmured. "They just didn't understand in time."
"That is often the same thing," EG said.
I looked back at the descending path. Light layered upon light, each step invisible until it existed beneath you. Uncertain. Relentless.
"I don't want to end up like them," I said.
EG nodded once. "Then whichever path you choose, you must walk it consciously."
The vibration intensified. Cracks of light traced outward from the sigil, crawling across the platform. The system—whatever governed this place—was losing patience.
"You're running out of time," EG warned.
I closed my eyes.
The pearl pulsed steadily now, no longer flaring wildly. It felt… patient. As if it would support either choice, but would remember which one I made.
I thought of the rain again. Of how close I'd come to disappearing without understanding anything at all. Of how furious that had made me—not at the world, but at the idea of ending ignorant.
I opened my eyes.
"I won't delay forever," I said, more to myself than to EG. "If I stabilize, it's not to hide. It's to prepare."
EG searched my face, as if testing the truth of my words. After a moment, he inclined his head.
"Then choose with that intention," he said.
I stepped forward.
Not toward the shadowed corridor.
Not fully downward either.
Instead, I stopped at the edge of the sigil and knelt, pressing the pearl against the glowing lines beneath my hand.
The light responded instantly, patterns shifting, tightening, condensing. The platform steadied, vibrations diminishing as if soothed.
EG's eyes widened fractionally. "You're not choosing a path," he said.
"I am," I replied, breath steady despite my racing heart. "Just not the way you expected."
The residuals recoiled as the sigil brightened, its structure locking into place. The paths did not vanish—but they paused, suspended, waiting.
EG exhaled slowly. "You're anchoring the layer."
"Temporarily," I said. "So I can move when I'm ready—not when I'm pressured."
Silence fell.
Then, somewhere deep below, something shifted—acknowledging the decision.
EG regarded me with something new in his expression. Not approval.
Recognition.
"The echo will remember this," he said quietly.
I met his gaze. "So will I."
And for the first time, the space between steps felt like solid ground.