Kieran couldn't move.
His legs were rooted to the spiral floor. His hands trembled. Not from fear—but from pressure. It pressed against his skull, his spine, his shadow. It whispered in words he didn't understand. Not yet.
All around him, the others broke.
Talon clawed at his chest, whispering apologies to things no one could see. Calla curled in on herself, shivering in flame that didn't burn. Rei wept in silence—face locked in rage. Nova paced with knives drawn, eyes darting to ghosts that weren't there.
Sera… just stood.
Still. Empty.
Selene bled from her nose now. From her ears. Her mouth was a tight line of fury.
The Choir was winning.
"We have seen you."
"We have worn your names."
"Now wear ours."
The spiral flared. Black glass shimmered. The air bent sideways. Something laughed without a mouth.
And Kieran saw the cracks.
At first, he thought it was just the chamber fracturing again.
But no.
The cracks weren't in the walls.
They were in the illusion.
Thin veins of wrong running through everything—the shadows too sharp, the breath too slow, the words too smooth. He saw overlapping realities. The classroom. The Trial. The monolith. Himself.
All existing at once.
Like lies stacked on top of each other.
His shadow twitched. Not violently—deliberately. It pointed.
Not at the spiral.
Not at the others.
At him.
And then it spoke—not aloud, but within.
"You know it's not real. You always knew."
Kieran's breath caught.
He opened his eyes—his real eyes.
The veil didn't fall.
He tore through it.
Light flared behind his pupils. Not fire. Not shadow. Something colder. Purer.
Revelation.
It burned quietly.
Truth shaped like vision. Sight sharpened like a blade.
He saw:
Talon wrapped in echoes of grief, bound by a forgotten name.
Calla's guilt looping endlessly, trapped in an illusion built from her own Aspect.
Rei facing a version of himself that never stopped killing.
Nova reliving every death she prevented by becoming something sharp.
Selene… standing between futures. One in which she saved them. One in which she didn't.
Sera… flickering. Fading. Half-real. Half-something else.
He saw them all.
And he saw the lie wrapping around them like silk.
It wasn't strong.
It was familiar.
Because it was built from them.
"I see you," Kieran whispered.
The Choir faltered.
"What did you say?"
"I said I see you," he repeated—louder. Sharper. "And you're not real."
He raised his hand.
His veins glowed beneath the skin. A pale fire, cold as glass.
The light of Revelation.
And then, one by one, he reached for the threads connecting each of them to the false world.
He didn't tear them.
He unwound them.
Gently.
Carefully.
With the precision of someone peeling away a lie too long believed.
Calla gasped.
The flames vanished.
Talon dropped his arms, blinking hard.
Rei fell to one knee, sucking in breath like it was his first in hours.
Nova collapsed to her hands, coughing curses.
Selene steadied herself—staring at Kieran now.
And Sera… simply looked up.
Not at him.
Through him.
The chamber returned.
The spiral dimmed.
The feathers stopped humming.
And the Choir…
It did not scream.
It exhaled.
"We remember now."
"You are not the first to see."
"But you are the first to look without fear."
Kieran fell to one knee.
His nose bled.
His shadow flickered—then stilled.
His breath came in ragged pulls.
And in his hand?
A second feather.
This one silver.
Still warm.
The Trial wasn't over.
But for now, the veil had lifted.
And the Choir had seen him.