Eli didn't move. He couldn't. The space around him felt hollow, like something essential had been torn out and nothing left behind could fill it. His chest rose unevenly, each breath heavier than the last, as the truth settled in—Ethan was gone. Not fading. Not lost in shadows. Taken. And worse… he had taken everything with him. The power that once flickered within Sam was gone. The faint strength Eli carried—gone. Even Valo's presence felt dim, like something had been stripped from her very core. And somewhere deeper than all of it… Elias was gone too. Behind him, Sam's sobs broke through the silence, raw and shattered. "It's my fault… I did this…" he cried, his voice cracking as his hands gripped his head. But Eli didn't turn. Not yet. Because something colder had taken hold of him. The memory of the Echo. The words. The way it had looked—not at him—but past him. At Sam ... At Ethan!. Eli's breath caught. "…no…" he whispered, his eyes widening as the realization cut deeper. "It wasn't talking to me…" His voice trembled. "…it was talking to both his son not at him." Slowly, he turned.
Sam knelt on the ground, shaking, broken, lost in guilt he couldn't understand. Eli stared at him, something twisting painfully in his chest. "…Elias…" he whispered. Sam froze. Just for a second. His sobs hitched. His fingers tightened. Eli stepped forward, his voice shaking now. "No… you can't be…" His mind rejected it, fought it, refused to accept what it feared most. "I buried you…" he said, his voice cracking. "I watched you die…" Sam slowly lifted his head, his face wet with tears, his expression shattered and confused. But his eyes—for a brief, flickering moment—changed. Older. Colder. Familiar. Eli's breath stopped. "…why…" he whispered, fear creeping in. "Why are you doing this…?" Sam blinked. And it was gone. "Papa…?" he whispered weakly. Eli stumbled back slightly, shaking his head. "No… no… this isn't real…" His hands gripped his head as if he could force the truth away. "…you can't be him…" His voice broke. "Not again…" Silence fell between them. Heavy. Unforgiving. Eli's chest tightened as his thoughts spiraled deeper. "…why…" His voice dropped. "Why them…?" Why his son. Why now. Why again.
Above them—click.
The sound echoed, cold and distant. Watching. Recording. Waiting. Eli slowly lowered his hands, his eyes no longer just filled with grief—but something darker. Something colder. "…I won't let you take him too." Sam's breath hitched. Because this time—Eli wasn't speaking to them not his sons not his once dead twin Elias.
Far away—in a place untouched by warmth—Ethan fell to his knees. The ground beneath him was smooth and unnaturally cold, like polished stone that had never known sunlight, stretching endlessly into a horizon that didn't exist. Behind him, a dizzying blue light burned silently, vast and consuming, its glow casting long, distorted shadows that shifted even when he didn't move. The air felt wrong—too still, too heavy—each breath coming out faint and uneven as if something unseen pressed against his chest, testing him, measuring him. A low hum lingered in the distance, soft but constant, vibrating through the ground beneath his palms and into his bones. Ethan remained there for a moment, his hands trembling slightly as he stared at them, the cold seeping into his skin and climbing slowly up his arms. "…I left them…" he whispered, the words barely forming as the weight of them settled deep within him.
Behind him, the light shifted—not violently, not suddenly—but with intention. It pulsed once, low and steady, like a heartbeat that didn't belong to him. Ethan didn't turn immediately, but he felt it. A presence. Familiar. Heavy. Watching. The pressure in the air tightened, subtle but undeniable, as if the space itself acknowledged what had arrived. Then he turned. The light had taken shape. A figure stood within it, outlined in gold and blue—not fully solid, yet undeniably real.
Elias.
They stared at each other.
Silence stretched between them, thick and unmoving, filled with something neither of them spoke. Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied him. "You look like my father…" he said slowly. "…but you're not him." His gaze sharpened as he caught the difference—the stillness, the weight behind Elias's eyes. "There's something in your eyes… something different." A pause. "…you're his twin brother."
Elias didn't respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on Ethan, sharp and searching, as if seeing far more than what stood before him. Ethan looked down at his hands again, flexing his fingers slightly as the cold tightened around them. "…I left them all."
Elias's expression shifted—just slightly. His voice came out lower this time, edged with something conflicted. "Are you not scared, Ethan?" he asked quietly. "Do you even understand what you've stepped into… what you've taken?"
Ethan didn't answer.
He didn't move.
Elias watched him for a moment longer, and something darker passed through his eyes. Because he saw it. That same resolve. That same decision. The same look he once carried.
And he hated it.
Elias turned away sharply, taking a few steps into the dim expanse before stopping. Without looking back, he raised his hand and pointed into the distance where the blue light thinned into darkness. "East," he said. "Walk." A pause followed, the air tightening again as his voice dropped colder. "You're not welcomed here." Silence lingered. Then, almost under his breath, quieter but heavier—"…I want Sam back."
Ethan went still the moment the name cut through the air.
Not a sound. Not a movement. Just a fracture in him—deep, immediate, unguarded.
His eyes lifted slowly toward the thinning blue light, as if it had personally betrayed him. The cold in his expression didn't soften; it sharpened. Like something inside him had just been pulled awake and forced to remember a wound it never stopped bleeding.
For a second, he didn't speak.
When he finally did, his voice came lower than before—no longer just warning, but something restrained and dangerous.
"…Don't say that name like you know it."
A pause.
His fingers curled slightly at his side, tension crawling through his arm like a living thing.
The air around him thickened again.
Then, quieter—almost broken beneath the control he was forcing into place:
"He's not part of this place."
His gaze dropped for a fraction of a second, as if something inside him cracked under the weight of memory.
Then it returned—colder than before.
"If you've seen Sam…"
A breath.
"…you should've run already."
Ethan slowly lifted his head. The blue light behind him pulsed once more, the low hum deepening as if responding to his decision. For the first time since arriving, he pushed himself fully upright. The cold no longer just surrounded him—it pressed against him, testing, probing, waiting for him to break.
Ahead of him—the darkness shifted.
Ethan's eyes locked onto Elias instantly.
Deadly calm settled over him.
He stared into Elias' eyes—without blinking, without hesitation—like a death sentence already written between them.