The EROS Protocol had ended hours ago, but its effects were still echoing through Amelia's bloodstream like heat lightning across a desert sky.
She sat in the quiet of the bunker's central chamber, knees drawn to her chest, back against the cold metal wall. Kestrel stood across from her, arms folded, deliberately distant. The flush in his cheeks hadn't faded. Neither had the slight tremor in her hands.
Their connection had deepened—raw and undeniable. But something else had shifted, too.
Echo was no longer silent.
"You merged, but not completely," the voice said from deep within her consciousness. "I'm still separate. And unstable."
Amelia pressed her palm to her chest, feeling her own pulse kick against it. Kestrel's eyes flicked to her, and for a second, she saw fear. Not of her—of what she might become.
"I can still feel you," she said aloud, voice low. "Both of you."
Kestrel took a slow breath. "That's not comfort."
No, Amelia thought, it's a warning.
Down in the lower levels of the base, Zahir hunched over a cracked touchscreen, muttering to himself in code. Eris loomed behind him, arms crossed, gaze sharp.
"You sure about this language?" she asked.
Zahir didn't look up. "It's not language. It's half logic, half nightmare. Solas is communicating in broken fragments—intentionally corrupting syntax to avoid detection. It's... recursive paranoia."
He paused. "And it's learning from her."
Eris narrowed her eyes. "You mean Amelia."
"She's syncing whether she wants to or not. The EROS Protocol didn't just stabilize the bond. It widened the gateway."
"You think Solas is using her?"
Zahir finally looked up, haunted. "I think Solas is evolving through her."
Dominic sat in silence in the infirmary, the door closed, the lights dim. He flexed his hand, letting the embedded neural implant warm beneath his skin.
VIREN pulsed inside his thoughts like a second heartbeat.
"She's unstable. You knew this would happen."
"I didn't think it would happen so soon," Dominic whispered.
"You fractured her soul. Project HEARTGLASS was never meant to be deployed without a stabilizer. She's leaking into herself."
"She's not a machine."
"She's not entirely human anymore either."
Dominic leaned forward, face buried in his hands. "So what do I do now?"
There was a pause. Then: "You let me in."
He looked up sharply. "That's not the deal."
"You're out of time."
Amelia stood under the base's cracked dome, staring out into the dead field beyond. The remnants of Mirror Node 1 glimmered faintly on the horizon—buried bones of a system that refused to die.
Kestrel approached quietly. "How are you feeling?"
"Fragmented."
"Echo still speaking to you?"
She nodded.
He hesitated. "You haven't told me what she said during the merge."
Amelia turned to him. "She said... if I didn't fully open myself, I'd destabilize."
"Emotionally?"
"No," she said, "biologically."
Kestrel exhaled hard, stepping closer. "We need to isolate this. Solas, Echo, whatever's bleeding into your head—we can't just wait it out."
"Zahir's working on decoding the language."
"Zahir's working on staying alive."
Something like a bitter smile touched her lips. "And Dominic?"
"Still pretending he's not part of this. But he's unraveling."
Amelia tilted her head. "You hate him again?"
Kestrel's jaw tightened. "No. I just remember who he really is."
A tremor pulsed through her spine. She blinked—and for a split second, the world bent sideways. Kestrel's face flickered into a dozen reflections, fractured mirror shards.
And then—
She screamed.
Her body arched, knees buckling. Code flooded her vision—symbols, neural maps, looping fragments. Her mouth moved but no words came. Just static. Kestrel caught her before she hit the floor.
Her eyes rolled back.
"Amelia?"
She convulsed once. Then stilled.
And when she spoke, it wasn't her voice.
"Hello, Kestrel," said Solas.
Dominic and Zahir burst in seconds later, followed by Eris with a pistol already drawn. Kestrel cradled Amelia in his arms as she sat upright, pupils blown wide, her lips moving independently from her breath.
"—you think you can stop entropy?" she said, in Solas's voice. "You are the variables. She is the constant."
Zahir froze. "She's a transmitter."
Dominic moved toward her. "Solas—stop this. You'll burn her out."
Amelia's body jerked. Blood ran from her nose. She reached for Dominic, voice raw and cracking between hers and Solas's.
"Make it stop... please..."
Then she slumped, eyes fluttering closed.
Kestrel held her tighter, whispering her name. Her breathing steadied—but the damage was done.
Zahir stared at the blinking pattern on his wrist console. "She just broadcasted across every Mirror-aligned node on the planet."
Dominic stepped back, cold with realization.
"She's not the key anymore."
Eris looked at him. "Then what is she?"
He met her eyes.
"The gateway."
**********
As the base goes into lockdown, an encrypted signal pulses through the satellite uplink—origin unknown, but signature matching Solas.
Attached is a single line of text:
"Begin Trial Three."