Liara woke with the taste of ash on her tongue.
The dreams were growing stronger—no longer bound to sleep. Now, even in waking moments, the air shimmered with heat. The Vault called to her in pulses, like a second heartbeat beneath her skin.
She couldn't ignore it anymore.
She wandered through the east wing alone, her hand brushing along the carved walls. At first, she thought she was imagining it.
But the stone whispered back.
Not in words.
In echoes.
Every surface near the Vault seemed to hum beneath her fingertips. A vibration. A memory. Flashes of silver. Of heat. Of eyes she hadn't yet seen in daylight.
Her knees buckled. She caught herself against the wall.
"Not mine," she whispered.
But deep down, she knew.
Something inside her was no longer asleep.
At the training grounds, Cassian was waiting for her. His presence—steady, calm—should have soothed her.
Instead, it made her feel fractured.
"You're pale," he said, stepping forward, gently brushing her hair from her face. "Did you sleep?"
"Not really," she murmured.
He paused. "You're pulling away again."
"I'm… afraid," she admitted, eyes burning. "Of what I'm becoming."
Cassian's hand moved to her waist, steady. "You're not alone."
She wanted to believe him. But when he kissed her forehead, the warmth was wrong.
It wasn't him she had felt in the night.
It was someone older. Wilder. Closer than breath.
That evening, she stood before the Vault door, alone.
She reached out.
The ancient metal glowed beneath her palm—not rejecting her… but recognizing her.
A shudder passed through the floor.
And a voice whispered from the other side, so faint she almost missed it:
"The echo… is your own."
She gasped.
Then behind her—
A presence.
Not Aeron. Not Cassian.
She turned—heart thundering—and for the briefest instant, she saw his shadow.
Silver at the edge of dark.
Watching.
Waiting.