A signal pierced the veil—low, rhythmic, alive. It throbbed beneath Echo's skin, resonating with the blade at his hip. The monolith had opened something deeper than memory. It had cracked the world.
Kira stumbled. "They're scanning. We don't have long."
The city began to warp again—buildings shifting like teeth grinding in a mechanical skull. Echo pulled her forward, into an alley bathed in the blue glow of an ancient transmitter tower.
"We need to leave," she said.
"No," he whispered. "We need to be found."
He raised the blade high.
And the Architects answered.