He woke on the edge of a memory that wasn't his.
A stone floor beneath him.
Lightless. Cold.
A humming sound — not electric. Organic. Rhythmic.
Like a pulse… but too large.
Like it belonged to the world itself.
He rose to his feet.
And saw the spiral.
Carved into the horizon.
A structure, not a symbol.
A temple the size of a city — made of bone and glass, spinning slowly under a sky the color of ash and oil.
And atop its peak:
Him.
Not a vision.
Not a mirror.
A version.
Older. Sharper.
Dressed in robes laced with memory threads.
Eyes filled with light and shadow.
Axis Prime.
He smiled when he saw Aarav.
"You made it.
Most versions don't."
Aarav didn't speak. Couldn't.
"This is one of many futures," Prime continued.
"The one where you win.
Where the Order falls.
Where you reshape the loop."
Aarav stepped forward. "This… this isn't real."
"No.
But it's possible."
Prime walked slowly around the spiral's peak.
Below them, worshippers knelt.
Each wore a spiral carved into their skin.
Each bled into shallow bowls shaped like serpents.
"They call me savior here," Prime said.
"God. Architect.
But I only did what you're about to."
"I broke the cycle.
And they needed something else to spin around."
Aarav felt sick.
"Did I… do this to them?"
"No.
They did it to themselves.
I just… existed long enough."
The wind shifted.
Aarav heard whispers in it.
Voices from lives not yet lived.
Maya screaming.
Kabir laughing.
Cassian whispering:
"The Axis doesn't rule the spiral.
The Axis replaces it."
"You can stop it," Prime said.
"Wake up.
Walk away.
Let the Order collapse into its own rot.
Let someone else rebuild the ruins."
Aarav clenched his fists.
"Why are you showing me this?"
"Because the spiral doesn't end.
It evolves."
"And the next time you black out,
you may not come back as you."
The sky began to crack.
Light poured through the fractures.
Prime's body split into shards of glass and light — spiraling upward.
Aarav screamed—
And woke.
He was back.
The observatory.
Covered in sweat. Breathing like he'd run miles.
His reflection in the cracked glass wall looked the same.
But his eyes were wrong.
Too old.
Too deep.
Too spiral.