Erie stood in front of the glowing server core, eyes scanning the data strings unraveling like threads of a forgotten myth.
"This can't be real," she muttered. "This was just a theory."
Kestrel leaned over her shoulder, brows furrowed. "What is it?"
She tapped into the file. The label blinked red:
EROS PROTOCOL – MIRROR X23. Biochemical Bond Reinforcement via Reciprocal Neural Synchrony.
"It's a failsafe," Eris said. "A behavioral override buried in Amelia's code. But it doesn't trigger with fear or pain. It activates through…" She trailed off.
Amelia's voice filled in the silence. "Desire."
They all looked at her.
Amelia moved toward the screen. The data pulsed faster as she neared. Her body recognized the protocol before her mind fully did.
Eris explained: "It was experimental. Mirror theorized that emotional synchrony—real, mutual affection—could stabilize volatile neural architecture. They designed it to merge hosts with their bonded counterpart. Through… pleasure."
Kestrel stiffened. "You mean—"
"It's not just sex," Eris said. "It's intent. Trust. Love."
Amelia stared at the cascading data. "But only if both people feel it. Only if it's real."
"If you activate it and the bond isn't mutual, it breaks your mind," Eris added. "Splits the architecture permanently. No reboot. No undo."
Kestrel's voice was low. "That's not a protocol. That's a dare."
Amelia looked at him.
Really looked.
His eyes were wild with things unsaid. Guilt. Want. Love threaded with restraint. Her heart pounded.
She whispered: "Will you come with me?"
He didn't hesitate. "Always."
They entered the test chamber.
The light dimmed, walls alive with reactive sensors. The air pulsed with static, tension, potential.
Kestrel stepped close. "You don't have to do this."
"Yes, I do," she said, pulling off the band at her wrist, baring the mirror-node interface beneath her skin. "But only with you."
They touched.
A flicker of memory surged: the first kiss. The vault. The screaming silence between her collapse and rebirth. His arms catching her when she forgot his name.
The sync began.
His hands on her waist.
Her breath caught.
Every moment of connection, every fragment of longing buried beneath crisis and code—rose. Raw. Real.
She kissed him.
Hard, deep, nothing polite.
The sensors responded, glowing brighter.
The protocol engaged.
They fell together.
Not just into each other—but into sync.
"Touch me," she whispered.
"I already am," he answered.
Amelia's body lit from within—heat, memory, power fusing in a way Echo didn't resist this time.
"This is us," Echo whispered. "All of us. Don't stop."
Their pulse synchronized. Their breath became one rhythm.
She felt him inside her—not just physically, but emotionally. Fully. Their past, their pain, their unspoken forgiveness.
"I love you," Kestrel said.
"Now you say it."
"I love you too," she whispered—then screamed.
Not in pain.
In revelation.
Her mind opened.
And in the glow of it all—Amelia saw flashes.
A future she'd never lived.
Dominic in chains.
Echo at the helm of her body.
Kestrel dead beside a burning mirror-node.
Her body jolted.
The protocol ended.
She lay gasping, trembling, tangled in Kestrel's arms.
"I saw something," she said, eyes wide with panic.
"What did you see?" he asked, holding her tighter.
She looked up at him, her voice a cracked whisper.
"Echo wins."