The glowing figures stepped from the fog, radiating a surreal, flickering energy—like memories projected through broken glass. Their movements were eerily fluid, and though they bore Ayame and Kael's features, something was off. Their eyes gleamed with a cold light, and their presence sent a shiver down the spines of the real Ayame and Kael.
The echo-Ayame cocked her head, studying them with the detached curiosity of a scientist inspecting flawed specimens.
"I remember this," she said, her voice laced with bitterness. "This is the part where you pretend nothing happened. Where you smile and pretend you didn't leave me behind."
Kael's breath caught in his throat.
The echo-Kael stepped forward, his tone mocking. "And this is where you convince yourself you had no choice. That 'destiny' pulled you apart. But maybe you just weren't brave enough."
Ayame felt the accusation pierce through her chest like ice.
"These aren't just echoes," she murmured. "They're... regrets."
Kael's fists clenched. "They're us. The versions of us that never healed."
The train station around them warped slightly—benches stretched longer, lights flickered to match the echoes' auras, and the air thickened with unspoken emotions. Quillo hadn't been exaggerating. This place *was* a loop. One forged from guilt, silence, and the fear of never saying what needed to be said.
The echo-Ayame took a step closer, her eyes burning. "Do you even remember what you promised, Kael?"
"I remember everything," he said, his voice firm.
"No," she snapped. "You remember the part that's convenient. The part where we were happy. You skip the moment I waited on this bench for three hours."
Kael's lips parted. "I was looking for you—"
"You left," she said, voice trembling.
The echo-Kael turned to the real Ayame. "And you? You said you'd fight to stay close. But the moment things got hard, you vanished. You never wrote. You let the silence grow."
Ayame opened her mouth to reply but stopped. Because some part of her knew… these weren't lies. They were the ugliest truths she had buried beneath stardust and jokes.
Kael reached out for her hand, grounding her. "We were scared," he whispered. "But we're here now. We came back."
The echoes circled them.
"And now," said echo-Kael, "you'll have to prove you deserve to move forward."
The ground beneath them cracked. The station dissolved into a shimmering vortex of memories—the moment Ayame had slipped through the gate, Kael running too late, letters never sent, midnight phone calls never answered. Every choice that led to silence.
Suddenly, the echoes attacked.
Kael barely dodged a glowing strike from his doppelgänger, while Ayame's twin launched a flurry of silver energy blades shaped like cherry blossoms. It was a battle of past and present, heart and memory. Each move from the echoes mirrored their weaknesses, their doubts, their pain.
Kael grunted as he was thrown back, rolling across the tiled floor that shifted under him like waves of thought.
"They're too strong," he said, breathless.
"No," Ayame said, eyes narrowing. "They're only as strong as we let them be."
She stood tall. "We're not the same people we were in this memory. We've changed."
The echoes faltered for a split second. Enough.
Kael stood, wiping blood—or was it starlight?—from the corner of his mouth. "We've learned. We've grown. And maybe... it's time we forgave ourselves."
A warm glow began to emanate from their chests. Ayame gasped as a shimmer of golden light formed between her palms. Kael's hands ignited with celestial fire. They moved in unison, their energies harmonizing into a radiant pulse.
The echoes charged one final time—but as they collided with the light, they didn't shatter. They softened. Began to fade.
The echo-Ayame whispered, "Don't forget us."
"We won't," Ayame said softly. "But we won't be ruled by you either."
And with that, the echoes dissolved into dust and light, carried away by an invisible wind. The station brightened, the air cleared, and the silence broke like a curse lifted.
Kael exhaled, then turned to her.
"Are we still in the Rift?" he asked.
Ayame nodded slowly. "I think we passed."
A familiar flutter of feathers signaled Quillo's return, this time perched on top of a floating luggage rack.
"Congratulations," he said, adjusting his glasses. "You faced the Echoes. Not many do and come out sane."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "What happens now?"
Quillo pointed to a glowing object materializing between them—a star-shaped crystal pulsing with soft white light.
"The first Star Key."
Ayame stepped forward and picked it up. As she did, the train station dissolved, and they were back in the celestial corridor, the hall where they first met Quillo.
"Three more to go," the fox-owl said, floating ahead of them. "Each one harder than the last."
Kael chuckled. "Why am I not surprised?"
Quillo turned and smirked. "Next up? The Valley of Forgotten Names."
Ayame's brow furrowed. "That doesn't sound very... cheerful."
Quillo flapped his wings. "Oh, it isn't."
As the portal to the next trial opened in a whirl of stars and whispering winds, Kael turned to Ayame with a small smile.
"Still with me?"
She bumped his shoulder. "Always."
Together, they stepped forward.
And somewhere far behind, the station—once a place of parting—now held only light.