The weight of her name had never felt heavier.
Amelia. The voice from the comm still echoed in her skull, like a ghost pressing cold fingers to the back of her neck.
She hadn't heard it in years.
Not like this.
Not this clearly.
The others didn't recognize it, not fully. But she did.
The woman who spoke had been there when Amelia was born—not in the hospital, but in the lab.
The one who wrote the original code for Echo. The one who whispered promises to a child too young to understand that she wasn't a child at all.
She staggered toward the nearest console, hands trembling as she pulled up the coordinates. The signal was bouncing from the northern border—an old, decommissioned Mirror facility codenamed: NODE_2.
Kestrel moved in behind her. "You recognize that voice."
She nodded.
Dominic stayed back, arms crossed, jaw tight. "You didn't tell us there was another node."
"I didn't remember," Amelia said. "Until now."
"You could've said something the minute your memories returned," he shot back.
"She just came back, Dominic," Eris cut in.
"Give her a second to be a person before turning this into another interrogation."
Amelia stood between them, her heart pounding, her body still humming from the reintegration. Her pulse felt louder than their voices.
The code had worked.
She was whole.
But wholeness wasn't peace—it was a flood. Of everything. Every feeling she'd ever buried. Every moment with Kestrel—shivering, stuttering, breathless. Every fight with Dominic—loving, breaking, impossible.
Every time Echo whispered you were made for more.
Now she knew what more meant. And it scared her more than anything else ever had.
That night, she walked the monastery halls alone.
Outside, wind howled against the old stone walls, and the moon hung sharp above the snow-capped trees.
She stopped in front of the mirror room—the one where she used to see Echo.
But this time, there was no reflection waiting.
Only her.
Hair messy from the collapse. Lips bitten from the tension of memory. A cut above her collarbone she couldn't remember getting.
Her fingers drifted to the glass.
Then—
A flicker.
The mirror shimmered.
And in it, herself—but different. Stronger posture. Eyes golden, glowing. A smirk instead of a frown.
Echo.
But not hostile. Not hungry.
Ready.
"We're not fighting anymore," the mirror-Amelia said. "We're aligned."
Amelia swallowed hard. "Then what are we doing?"
The reflection tilted its head.
"We're going back."
The next morning,
Dominic met her in the command corridor. He looked rough—dark circles under his eyes, collar half-unbuttoned, his normally perfect composure fraying at the seams.
"I can't protect you from this," he said, blocking her path. "You walk into NODE_2, and you might not come out."
"Then maybe I don't want protection," Amelia replied.
He studied her. "You've changed."
"I am changed," she said. "But not by Echo.
By the truth."
His hands curled into fists. "Do you even remember what we were? What you said to me the night before we ran?"
"I remember everything," she said. "I just don't feel the same."
His breath caught.
Amelia stepped past him—then turned back. "You loved the version of me that needed rescuing. But I don't need saving now."
In the strategy room, Kestrel was already prepping gear. He didn't speak when she entered—just handed her a neural suppressor and an encrypted comm tag.
"You sure you want to do this?" he asked finally.
"I have to," she said. "Everything started there."
He met her gaze.
And this time, there was no hesitation—only the smoldering promise of something unfinished.
"I'm going with you," he said.
She stared at him, pulse rising.
"Kestrel—"
"I need to see what they did to you. To all of us. And I need to see what's coming."
Amelia nodded. Slowly.
As she turned to leave, he caught her wrist.
She froze.
His fingers traced up to her elbow, then her jaw. His lips barely touched hers.
The kiss was slow—aching. Full of heat, but tethered to restraint.
"I remember this," she whispered, heart racing.
"So do I," he said. "And I want more than memory."
The shuttle descended toward the snow-covered basin, NODE_2 rising in the distance—metallic and dark, like a buried god half-awake.
Inside the cockpit, Eris monitored the signal. "They're expecting us," she said. "Doors are open."
Dominic checked the weapons. "That's not a welcome. That's a trap."
Amelia stared ahead, unflinching.
"I don't care."
And then, just before touchdown, the voice returned—clear through the speakers.
"Come home, Amelia. Let me show you what you were born to become."
As the shuttle doors hissed open, and the first steps hit the snow-covered ground, the sky above NODE_2 flickered.
A ripple. Like a hologram tearing.
And then—
A second Amelia appeared at the base of the node.
Not a hallucination.
Not Echo.
A perfect replica—standing in silence, eyes glowing.
Waiting.