As Rotham stepped away from the crystalline orb, the calm light flickered, as if disturbed by an unseen force. The station around him groaned, walls rippling like water caught in a sudden storm.
Selin's voice crackled urgently. "Rotham, the Echo Reversal bought us time, but the Core is destabilizing. The boundaries between reality and memory are thinning."
Suddenly, the corridor behind him shimmered and warped.
Rotham blinked—and for a split second, the station morphed into something else: shadows twisted into familiar faces, corridors folded into impossible angles, and echoes of his past whispered from every corner.
This place is breaking apart.
Fragments of memories, both his and the station's, collided—overlapping and conflicting, blurring the lines between what was real and what was imagined.
Rotham gripped his head. "I can't tell what's me and what's an echo anymore."
Selin's projection flickered into view, resolute. "You're the anchor. If you falter, the entire station could collapse into a void of forgotten realities."
He took a deep breath, steadying himself.
"Then I'll hold it together."
Using the neural interface, Rotham began weaving his own memories into the Core's fabric, reinforcing the strands that tethered the station's fractured realities.
The station responded—a pulse of harmony restored balance for a moment.
But in the distance, beyond the walls of perception, a deeper rumble sounded.
The true storm was coming.