Location: Edge of Threshold Prime — Night Before Disappearance
Galen sat by the fire, the egg nestled in his lap, warm beneath the last sky he would see.
The stars blinked above him like they were watching, too quiet to offer guidance. The path to Threshold Prime was just a short climb ahead — he'd made camp beneath the final ridge, too restless to sleep, too resolved to stay.
His recorder blinked red.
It had half a charge left.
Recording…
He adjusted it slightly and cleared his throat, voice soft, barely above the crackle of flame.
"Kael…"
"If this reaches you, then you've come farther than I ever hoped. And probably farther than I ever should have."
He looked down at the egg. Its light pulsed softly, like breath.
"I thought I was just chasing an answer. A shape in the dark. But the longer I followed Amaranth's voice, the more I realized… it wasn't calling to me."
"It was remembering you."
He paused.
Not for effect.
For truth.
"I don't think I'm going to make it back. Not because I'm weak, or lost, or even afraid. But because what waits ahead… needs someone to stay."
"And I won't let that be you."
The fire popped.
He glanced toward the ridge, where glyphs pulsed in stone like sleeping eyes.
"You're stronger than I was. You always were. You didn't need me to find your path—you just needed to know that I believed in it."
"So I'll say it plainly: I believe in you."
"Not the trainer. Not the memory. You."
The egg stirred faintly.
He smiled.
"She's dreaming now. I don't know what she'll become. What she'll carry. But I know she'll find you. Because I asked her to."
He brushed a thumb gently across the shell.
"Echo… you're not a creation. You're not a weapon. You're what happens when memory chooses to stay with love."
He swallowed.
Eyes stinging.
"Take care of him, will you?"
"And when the choice comes—between forgetting and carrying—remind him that sometimes we don't carry the past because we have to..."
"...we carry it because someone else couldn't."
He reached over and pressed a talisman into the folds of the cloth around the egg — a flat, silver charm marked with the ❂ glyph. The one that meant remembrance.
"This is my last recording. I won't leave coordinates. I won't leave clues. If you've found this, it's because you were meant to."
"And if you haven't… that's okay, too."
"Because I didn't do this for glory. Or for history. I did this for you."
He leaned back, voice steady now.
"I love you, Kael. Always."
"I'm going where memories can't follow."
"But I hope yours will."
He clicked off the recorder.
Wrapped the egg.
And walked into the dark.
He didn't look back.
Not once.