The world beyond the gate was not what Ayame expected.
No fire. No brimstone. No radiant paradise either.
Just… silence.
A soft, humming void stretched before them, filled with the shimmer of a million tiny lights suspended in the air like frozen fireflies. The ground beneath their feet wasn't ground at all—more like a glassy surface that rippled gently underfoot, reacting to their steps like water pretending to be solid.
Kael glanced at her, reaching out instinctively. Ayame took his hand without hesitation.
"I feel…" she whispered, voice trembling, "like we're walking inside a memory."
Kael nodded slowly. "Maybe we are."
They moved forward together, surrounded by constellations in motion. The stars around them pulsed with color—blue, gold, and a strange violet that made Ayame's chest ache. With every step, whispers echoed in the distance, not loud, not urgent, but layered like pages of a long-forgotten diary being read by the wind.
"Ayame," Kael said suddenly, pausing.
She turned. "What?"
He was staring down. Beneath the glasslike floor, shapes were swimming—blurry and slow, like ghosts under ice.
Ayame knelt. Her reflection flickered, then shifted—no longer her present self but a younger version: eyes brighter, hair shorter, cheeks rounder. She was laughing with someone—Kael. They were at the lake. Her fingers traced the surface of that memory, but the moment dissolved like mist at dawn.
"It's us," she breathed. "Pieces of us."
"This place… it's feeding on our past," Kael murmured. "Our bond. Our sacrifices."
A deep rumble answered him, not from around them—but from within.
The shimmering air thickened. A pressure built in Ayame's chest like grief returning uninvited.
Then came the voice.
> "You seek the soul not lost, but hidden."
A figure emerged from the haze ahead—neither man nor woman, but something in between. Eyes like eclipses, lips sewn with strands of starlight. They hovered slightly above the surface, robe trailing endlessly behind them like a comet's tail.
"Who are you?" Ayame asked, steady despite her racing heart.
The being blinked slowly. "I am the Keeper of Echoes. The path forward requires more than bravery."
Kael stepped forward. "Then tell us what it does require."
The Keeper tilted their head.
> "You have given pain. You have given memory. But now… you must give truth."
Ayame's voice wavered. "Truth?"
> "Your deepest one. The one you've never told—not to each other, not even to yourselves."
A chill rippled between them. Kael looked at Ayame. She looked back. Both suddenly unsure.
But there was no escape now. Behind them, the gate had vanished. Only this star-laced void remained.
The Keeper raised a hand, and from the air, two pedestals rose—simple, unadorned, glowing faintly. "Place your hands upon them. And the truth will come."
Ayame moved first. Her fingers brushed the pedestal. It was warm.
Kael followed. The moment his palm touched the surface, the void around them stilled. The constellations froze mid-motion. Even the whispers hushed.
Then it began.
Visions burst into life between them—fleeting, unfiltered pieces of memory that weren't always kind. Ayame saw herself on that rainy night Kael disappeared, curled on her bed, whispering *I should've told him...* over and over. Kael saw himself in the academy, grasping the locket she gave him, whispering *If she knew what I've done, she'd never look at me again.*
Each secret unraveled, each lie of omission dragged out into the light.
Ayame gasped. "This—this isn't just remembering. It's confession."
Kael swallowed hard. "I never told you… that before I left, I saw the prophecy."
Ayame froze. "What?"
"It said if I stayed, you would die."
The words hung heavy, too heavy.
"I wanted to tell you," Kael whispered. "But I couldn't. I thought leaving was protecting you."
Tears welled in Ayame's eyes, but she nodded slowly. "And I never told you… I followed you. Weeks after you vanished. I found the first gate. I made it partway through but—"
Her voice cracked. "I was afraid. I turned back."
The pedestal pulsed with light.
The Keeper's voice returned, softer now.
> "The truth opens the path. But it also marks the cost."
Before them, the stars parted, revealing a bridge of shimmering crystal leading into a place darker and deeper than the rest of the void. The edge of it trembled like it didn't want to be walked on.
Ayame clutched Kael's sleeve. "What if we can't go back?"
"We're not going back," he said gently, turning toward her. "We're going forward."
And together, they stepped onto the bridge.
Behind them, the Keeper whispered one last time:
> "Love is never weightless. But only those who carry it anyway… may pass."
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