The portal deposited them in silence.

After the endless music of the Eternal Festival, the quiet was almost violent. No breeze, no birds, no sound at all. Just a vast, pale garden stretching endlessly beneath a washed-out sky. Every leaf shimmered faintly, reflecting moments that didn't belong to them — fragments of lives, laughter, deaths, and dreams.

Eira took one cautious step forward. Her boot crunched on gravel, and the sound seemed to echo for miles. "This place feels… wrong," she murmured.

Kael said nothing. He stared out across the endless expanse, his expression unreadable. The Garden of Echoes was older than time, older even than the first Chrono Gate. He'd built part of it once — as a sanctuary for lost memories.

It hadn't stayed that way.

Jorah looked around warily. "Okay, not to sound paranoid, but are the flowers watching us?"

Eira frowned. "They're not flowers. They're echoes."

Jorah squinted. "Of what?"

Kael finally spoke, his voice low. "Of everyone who's ever died in a loop."

Jorah paled. "...Fantastic."

The garden shifted around them — subtly at first, then more aggressively. Paths rearranged themselves. Statues blinked in and out of existence. The air hummed with the faint vibration of countless memories replaying at once.

Kael closed his eyes, feeling the hum resonate in his bones. The Blade of Paradox — now a part of him — pulsed faintly beneath his skin, reacting to the place.

"Kael," Eira said quietly, "you're glowing again."

He opened his eyes, which now gleamed faintly with mirrored light. "It's responding to the echoes."

"Can you control it?"

He smiled faintly. "Define control."

"Kael."

He sighed. "I'll manage."

---

They followed a path lined with crystalline trees that shimmered with frozen laughter. The deeper they went, the more the world began to fold in on itself.

Whispers drifted through the still air — not random ones, but familiar. Jorah froze as he heard his own voice.

"—You can't just mess with time like it's a toy!"

He spun around. "Did you hear that?"

Eira nodded, eyes narrowing. "The garden's reflecting us."

Kael's expression hardened. "No. It's testing us."

He stepped forward, and the air rippled. A version of himself stepped out of the shimmer — not the dark, corrupted echoes from before, but something worse: peaceful.

The mirror Kael smiled softly. "You could rest, you know. Stop fighting. Stay here, where everything is remembered and nothing hurts."

Kael's voice was quiet. "You're not real."

"Neither are you," the echo replied gently. "Not anymore."

Eira reached for her blade. "Kael—"

He raised a hand. "Don't."

He faced his reflection. "You think rest is peace? It's just surrender with better lighting."

The echo smiled sadly. "And fighting forever isn't strength. It's fear of being forgotten."

Something flickered behind Kael's eyes — a flash of something old, unguarded. "Maybe. But at least fear keeps me moving."

The echo tilted its head, then dissolved into motes of light, scattering like ash in the air.

Eira exhaled slowly. "I hate this place."

Jorah muttered, "It hates us back, so we're even."

---

They continued, and the garden changed tone — the white flowers became crimson, the air thicker, heavier. The whispers grew louder.

This time, the echoes didn't speak as reflections — they screamed. Thousands of voices, overlapping, pleading, accusing.

"You left us."

"You broke the cycle."

"You promised it would end!"

Kael flinched, gripping his temple as the voices crashed through his mind. The Blade of Paradox flared in response, pulsing like a heartbeat.

Eira grabbed his arm. "Kael, stop fighting it—"

He jerked away. "I'm not fighting it! They're inside the Blade!"

The realization hit all three at once. The Garden wasn't just showing memories — it was alive because the Blades had absorbed the remnants of every timeline they'd destroyed. Every person erased by time was still here.

Eira's expression softened with horror. "They're trapped."

Kael's voice was raw. "No. They're waiting."

The air thickened. From the center of the garden, something vast stirred — an ancient presence, shimmering like starlight and shadow. The leaves trembled as the ground cracked open, revealing a massive mirror rising from the soil.

The Mirror of Remembering.

Eira stepped back. "Kael, what is that?"

"The first memory," he whispered. "The one even I wasn't supposed to touch."

The mirror pulsed, and the surface rippled — showing scenes from countless worlds. Kael as a child, laughing in a sunlit courtyard. Kael as a god, watching cities rise and fall. Kael kneeling before the Chronarchs as they betrayed him.

Then — the moment he forged the first Blade.

Eira watched in silence, realization dawning. "You didn't make the Blades to control time… You made them to contain it."

Kael didn't look away. "The loops weren't meant to trap people. They were meant to save them from unraveling."

Jorah's voice was quiet. "But it didn't work."

"No," Kael said softly. "It never does."

The mirror's light intensified, surrounding him. The garden shuddered, the air vibrating with raw energy.

Eira reached out. "Kael! What are you doing?"

He smiled faintly. "Listening."

The mirror spoke — not with words, but with understanding. Every echo in the garden resonated in unison, and for a moment Kael heard them clearly: billions of lives whispering thank you and why.

Tears burned behind his eyes — the first in centuries.

Then, in the reflection, a figure appeared behind him.

Not a copy. Not a memory.

Kieran.

"Still playing caretaker to your ghosts?" Kieran's voice was calm, almost sympathetic. "You never learn."

Kael didn't turn. "I thought you were gone."

"Gone?" Kieran chuckled. "Kael, I am gone. That's what freedom looks like. You should try it."

Eira stepped forward, sword drawn. "He's not really here."

Kieran smiled. "No, but neither is he."

The reflection's surface rippled violently, and Kieran's hand reached out — seizing Kael's shoulder through the mirror. The light flared, and Kael gasped, staggering.

Eira lunged, but the moment she touched the mirror, her hand passed through empty air.

Jorah shouted, "Kael!"

Kael grit his teeth, forcing energy through his veins. The Blade of Paradox flared within him, pushing back the invasion. "You can't touch me, Kieran. Not here."

"Oh," Kieran said softly, "but I can remind you."

Pain lanced through Kael's mind — every lifetime, every death, every loss collapsing in on itself. For a second, his body flickered between ages, between selves.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it ended.

Kael fell to his knees. The mirror went dark.

Eira dropped beside him. "Talk to me. What happened?"

He looked up, his eyes dimmer now — the mirrored light fading. "He's not gone. He's inside the echoes."

Jorah frowned. "You mean—"

"He's been using them. Feeding on them. Every loop he maintains gives him more control." Kael's hand trembled as he pressed it to the ground. "And I just gave him the map."

Eira's voice was barely a whisper. "Kael…"

He laughed — low, bitter, tired. "Congratulations. We just lost to a dead man."

The garden around them began to wilt. The air turned cold. The echoes went silent, their whispers vanishing one by one.

Eira stood, scanning the distance. "We have to move. Now."

Kael didn't move at first. His reflection in the broken mirror stared back at him — and this time, the face looking out wasn't his.

It was smiling.

He rose slowly. "Let's go."

Jorah eyed him warily. "You sure you're still… you?"

Kael gave a half-smile. "Mostly."

As they stepped through the collapsing path, the garden fell apart behind them — petals dissolving into ash, mirrors shattering into light.

When the last echo vanished, the silence returned — and in that silence, somewhere deep within the fading reflection, Kieran's voice whispered, soft and triumphant:

"You can't fix what was never broken, Kael."

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