The Emperor's golden signal flares to full strength — not light, but sound, not sound, but memory. Volst hears only static. Bit hears a lullaby that no one ever taught him. But Elias hears it clearly. It calls him by name, it speaks in choices, and it ends with a warning:
"There cannot be two of you."
When the light fades, the other Elias is no longer in the mirror.
He is here.
----
The vox-beacon wasn't connected to power.
Not by any visible means.
It sat atop the bridge console like a burnt offering — its golden inlay cracked, its vox-transmitter plates melted into the sigils beneath.
But it pulsed.
Like a heart.
Like it was waiting for a voice to answer back.
Volst scanned it. "No transmitter frequency. No input source."
"It's been active for hours," Lirae added. "But there's no transmission tech inside. Just a carved crystalline soulcore. That's… pre-heresy architecture."
Bit ran a finger around the pulse-lights.
"It's not a machine," he said quietly.
They all turned.
Bit's voice was different. Soft. Unsettled.
"It's a mouth. It's remembering how to speak."
The beacon pulsed again.
Once—
Then again—
Then in rapid succession.
Like knocking.
Elias stepped closer.
The moment his hand touched the outer ring—
Everything stopped.
The candles went out.
The air locked tight around them — heavy, unmoving.
The System blinked once—
then overloaded with static.
> Golden Signature Detected
> Psionic Layer: UNFILTERED
> SYSTEM COMPROMISE
> LOCKING OUT NON-USER PROCESSES
> > WARNING: NARRATIVE CHANNEL OPEN
And then he heard it.
The voice.
It came through the flame in his chest.
Through the scar.
Through the System's silence.
Not loud.
Not commanding.
Just… certain.
"Elias Mercer."
He didn't answer.
Couldn't.
"You were not made to change the world. You were made to break it."
The bridge stretched.
The others fell away.
Not vanished—
Muted.
Like he was underwater. Like memory had overwritten the present.
He tried to move. Couldn't.
Only listen.
"You are not the chosen. You are not the last.
You are the fork."
His journal opened by itself on the console.
The ink inside glowed faintly gold.
"There cannot be two of you."
Elias clenched his jaw.
Spoke aloud.
"I didn't ask for this."
"No one does."
"Then take it back."
"You've already passed the point where choice exists."
His knees buckled.
The flame flared inside him — briefly — then dimmed to near extinguishment.
The voice whispered one last thing.
"He is not waiting.
He is already here."
The candles relit.
The pressure released.
The System rebooted — weakly.
> Consciousness Restored
> Anchor Detected: UNSTABLE
> Proximity Threat: ACTIVE
He staggered back.
Volst caught him.
"Elias—!"
"I heard it."
"What?"
He looked at her, eyes wide.
His voice barely a whisper.
"The Emperor."
She stared at him like she wanted to believe.
Then Bit pointed.
"Where's your reflection?"
Elias turned to the shattered mirrorplate on the far console.
Nothing stared back.
Not his face.
Not the flame.
Not even light.
Just absence.
Then the console behind them chirped once.
And Elias's own voice crackled softly from the broken vox.
"We should talk.
Before you lose the chance to be me."
[END OF CHAPTER 9]