They came to the place where the dead were indexed. It was a dome of mirrors, each holding a face and a voice—trapped forever between identity and deletion.
Echo's own face blinked back at him from a hundred different angles. Some younger. Some cruel. Some broken.
Kira whispered, "They've rewritten your life every decade. You've lived as a soldier, a priest, a father, a traitor."
He reached out and touched one of the mirror faces. It shivered and spoke:
"You left something behind, and we became it."
Echo stepped into the mirror, and the world folded inward.