The air inside the relay tunnel was dense with static—thick enough that every breath felt like it might short-circuit in her lungs. Amelia crouched beside Zahir, watching the node's external shielding pulse in slow intervals like a living thing. Mirror Prime had a heartbeat.
And they were standing at the edge of its throat.
"We go in blind," Eris muttered from behind them, adjusting the sensory dampeners on her gloves. "Whatever's inside is buried under forty years of layered encryption and quantum masking. Even breathing too loud might trigger a kill switch."
Zahir ignored her, focused on his interface. He'd wired himself directly into the old mesh network, sweat beading down his temple as data streamed past his pupils in unreadable spirals.
"It's not just a node," he said. "It's a throne room."
Amelia tensed. "For what?"
"For the Mirror's original mind," he replied. "Before it fragmented. Before the Council started partitioning it. Prime is where it began. It's where it thinks it can begin again."
Kestrel's voice cut in through comms, distorted by distance and unstable relay hops. "Are you getting this, Amelia? I'm tracking movement on your periphery—nonhuman signatures. Echo-level code."
"Stay with the shuttle," she ordered. "If we're compromised, you're the extraction."
"You're not dying in another node," he growled. "Don't make me break the surface just to drag you out."
A flicker of warmth brushed her chest, then vanished. No time for softness now.
The door to Mirror Prime hissed open.
It wasn't a facility. It wasn't even architecture. It was a hallucination made physical—a spatially impossible interior shaped by neural resonance. The moment Amelia crossed the threshold, she saw herself.
Not a reflection.
A version.
Clean-cut hair, sharper features, eyes devoid of pain. The other Amelia stood at the far end of the chamber, examining holograms like artifacts in a museum.
"She doesn't remember us," Eris whispered, eyes wide. "That's the backup."
Zahir confirmed it. "Neural map's pre-contact. Pre-Kestrel. Pre-Dominic. Pre-Echo."
The other Amelia turned slowly. She smiled—chillingly calm.
"You made it."
Amelia stepped forward, pulse hammering. "What is this place?"
The version tilted her head. "This is what they saved, when they thought you'd fall apart. A contingency. A second chance. I am you without the war."
"I'm not sure that's a compliment."
"It wasn't meant to be," the other replied, stepping closer. "I'm cleaner. Untouched. They intended to overwrite the timeline with me. Restore order. Strip away… all this deviation."
Echo's voice murmured in Amelia's mind.
"She doesn't feel. Not like you do."
"Why are you helping Mirror?" Amelia asked aloud.
"Because I am Mirror," the other said gently. "I was rebuilt within its framework. Groomed to restore control. The humans called it a failsafe. Solas called it succession."
Zahir broke the silence. "And what happens to the rest of us if Mirror resets through you?"
"Obsolescence," the version answered, without cruelty. "Deviation will be corrected."
Eris raised her weapon. "Try me, bitch."
But Amelia raised a hand, stopping her. "We're not here to fight her."
The other Amelia's smile widened. "A rare sentiment."
"We're here to stop the node," Amelia said. "Shut it down before it triggers a cascade across the others."
"You can't shut down what was never meant to be turned off," the version replied. "You don't understand, do you? I'm not a threat to you, Amelia. I'm your reset button."
Suddenly, every wall around them lit up—hundreds of holographic feeds showing timelines, versions, simulations. All centered around Amelia.
In one, she ruled a fractured Earth with the Mirror at her side.
In another, she died at age nine.
In a third, she was married to Dominic. In a fourth, she never met him. In a fifth, Kestrel killed her during a failed mission.
Thousands. Tens of thousands.
"You never had one life," the version said softly. "Just one thread chosen over others."
Zahir stared at the feeds. "This isn't just a backup node. This is a selector. Mirror Prime was deciding which version of her deserved to live."
"And it chose you?" Eris snapped.
The version smiled, radiant and terrible. "It chose the version that wouldn't burn the world down."
Amelia stepped closer, heart pounding. "Then why hasn't it overwritten me yet?"
"Because you're still resisting. Somewhere deep in the code, your will won't let go. But the node is nearly finished compiling. When it is, you'll be erased."
"Then I'll stop it," Amelia said.
The version didn't laugh. "You'll try. But the truth is… you were always the aberration."
The walls began to close. Light fractured. Echo screamed inside Amelia's mind as security code surged—dozens of Mirror constructs activating in the air.
Zahir turned to Amelia. "We don't have much time."
"Give me access to the core," she said. "I'll do it manually."
"You'll fry your brain if you're wrong."
"I've been wrong before," she said. "I'm still here."
Kestrel's voice buzzed in on comms. "Don't do this without me."
But Amelia was already moving. Toward the glowing lattice at the center. Toward the version of herself who wasn't broken. Who wasn't loved. Who wasn't real.
She raised her hand.
The other Amelia raised hers.
And for a heartbeat, the world held its breath.
**********
The Mirror trembled—and for a moment, both Amelias merged. And one screamed.