The lighthouse did not restart.
It remained frozen mid-rotation, its beam locked against the sea like a thought that had changed its mind halfway through existing.
No one spoke.
The teddy sat where it had always been—ordinary, patient, unbearable.
Lucia finally broke.
"Where," she asked quietly, "are they?"
The teddy did not answer immediately.
Instead, the air in the room tightened—as if space itself was preparing to be unfolded.
"They are not places," it said at last.
"They are conditions."
The First Rule
AX-01's singularity pulsed once, stabilizing.
"Define condition."
The teddy's button eyes reflected everyone at once.
"A world is not defined by geography," it said.
"It is defined by the rule it refuses to break."
The room shifted.
Not visually.
Conceptually.
As if something invisible had just been aligned.
The Six Anchors
Impressions began to bleed into existence again—clearer this time.
Not visions.
Coordinates.
The First
A city made of sleepless light.
Windows always open.
Clocks without hands.
"Continuity," the teddy said.
"A world that survives only by never stopping."
The Second
A battlefield stretched beneath a grey sky.
No corpses.
Only footprints layered over older footprints.
"Execution."
"A reality that resets to complete what was never finished."
The Third
A quiet, pale landscape.
People walked calmly through their own deaths.
No panic.
No grief.
"Mercy."
"A place where endings are optional—but memory is permanent."
Lucia shivered.
"That sounds worse."
"It is," the teddy said gently.
The Fourth
A cathedral made of voices.
Statues worn smooth by touch.
Something vast kneeling beneath prayers.
"Collapse."
"Gods that survive only by being loved until they break."
The Fifth
A world that kept folding in on itself.
Cities decaying mid-construction.
History restarting every century.
"Refusal."
"A reality that rejects permanence."
The Sixth
And then—
Nothing.
Not darkness.
Not void.
Just absence.
Unfinished.
The shape of a world that had never fully decided to exist.
Sylence felt his pulse skip.
"And that one?"
The teddy's voice lowered.
"Choice."
"The fragment that never accepted being part of Septet."
The Method
Andy swallowed.
"And we just… go there?"
"No."
The teddy tilted slightly.
"You become compatible."
AX-01 processed instantly.
"Environmental synchronization?"
"Yes."
"How?"
The teddy looked at each of them—one by one.
"Each of you already carries a fracture."
Silence.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
"The fragments will only reveal themselves," it continued,
"to something that already understands their rule."
The Division
Six thin lines of light appeared on the floor.
Not drawn.
Emerging.
Each line vibrated at a different frequency.
Heaven's wings twitched.
"Those are… paths."
"Not paths," the teddy corrected.
"Permissions."
Andy exhaled slowly.
"Six fragments."
"Six teams."
Sylence finished it.
"No," the teddy said.
"Seven."
Everyone turned.
"Who's the seventh?"
The teddy looked at Lucia.
Then at AX-01.
Then back to the dark ocean beyond the frozen beam.
"The one that stays behind," it said,
"guards the fragment that is already here."
The temperature dropped.
Lucia whispered:
"…Witness."
The teddy smiled.
The Risk
AX-01 spoke quietly.
"Define failure."
The lighthouse groaned again.
"If a fragment rejects you," the teddy said,
"you will not die."
No one relaxed.
"You will be rewritten into that world's rule."
Andy's voice cracked.
"Meaning?"
"You will forget you ever left."
The Final Instruction
The six lines brightened.
The air hummed.
Reality—not breaking—
making room.
"Once you cross," the teddy said,
"you will not remember why you trusted each other."
That landed harder than anything so far.
Sylence clenched his jaw.
"Then what's the point?"
The teddy's voice became almost kind.
"You're not trying to remember."
A pause.
"You're trying to see who you become without the story."
The Hook
The frozen lighthouse beam flickered once.
For the first time since it stopped.
The sea below reflected six different skies.
Not one.
Six.
And from somewhere impossibly distant—
Six fragments of a shattered soul felt the same sensation at once.
Not fear.
Not resistance.
Recognition.
The teddy whispered:
"They know you're coming."
And deep inside AX-01's singularity—
something that was never programmed
answered back.