Aria didn't let go of him.
Not immediately.
"Tell me everything," she said.
Zeke exhaled slowly, still trying to steady himself.
"He's… not different in the way I expected," he said. "He thinks he's right."
"That's what makes him dangerous."
Zeke nodded.
"He said he didn't hesitate."
Aria's expression shifted.
She understood.
"That means…" she started.
"He let you die," Zeke finished.
The words sat heavy between them.
Aria looked down for a moment.
Then back up.
"I've seen versions of that," she admitted. "In fragments."
Zeke frowned. "Fragments?"
"My memories," she said. "They're not coming back in order. It's like… pieces from different loops at once."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It is."
A small pause.
"But I remember one thing clearly."
Zeke waited.
"You always hesitate," she said.
He let out a quiet breath.
"Yeah."
"That's why this version of you exists," she added. "The one who doesn't."
Zeke looked at the shadow.
"You knew about him."
"Yes."
"And you didn't mention it."
"It wasn't relevant."
Zeke almost laughed.
"Yeah, I'm starting to notice your definition of relevant is terrible."
The shadow didn't respond.
Aria shifted slightly.
"If the loop is trying to replace you," she said, "then it means it's losing control."
Zeke nodded.
"Good."
"No," she said quickly. "That's not good."
He looked at her.
"If it replaces you, everything changes. Not just the loop—us."
Zeke didn't answer immediately.
He knew she was right.
"That version of you," she continued, "he won't make the same choices."
Zeke's jaw tightened.
"I know."
"And if he takes your place…" she hesitated, "…I don't know if I'll still matter the same way."
That hit harder than anything else.
Zeke looked at her.
"You will."
"You don't know that."
"I do."
His voice was steady.
Certain.
"I'm not letting that version of me rewrite everything."
The mark on his wrist pulsed again.
Brighter.
Aria noticed.
"It's reacting more now."
"Yeah," Zeke said. "Feels like it's about to split."
The shadow stepped forward.
"You are reaching a divergence point."
Zeke frowned. "Meaning?"
"The loop cannot sustain both versions of you."
Aria's expression tightened.
"So one of them has to go."
"Yes."
Zeke exhaled slowly.
"Let me guess," he said. "It won't be random."
The shadow looked at him.
"It will be decided by stability."
Zeke shook his head.
"Then I need to become the more stable one."
Aria stepped closer.
"Zeke… stability in this case means letting things happen the way they're supposed to."
He looked at her.
"You mean letting you die."
She didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Zeke looked away.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then—
"No."
The word came quietly.
But firmly.
"I'm not becoming him."
The shadow tilted its head.
"Then you will continue to destabilize the loop."
"Good."
"And risk losing her permanently."
Zeke's jaw tightened.
"I'll find another way."
Aria watched him carefully.
"You always say that."
He looked at her.
"And one of these times, I'll be right."
The chamber trembled again.
Stronger this time.
The air cracked faintly—
And for a second—
Zeke saw it.
The other version of himself.
Not in the modern world.
Here.
Inside the chamber.
Watching them.
Aria saw it too.
Her grip on his arm tightened.
"He's getting closer."
Zeke didn't look away.
"Yeah," he said quietly.
"I know."