At first, there was only pressure — not sound, not light, just the deep, suffocating weight of existence folding over itself.

Then came breath.

Code inhaling.

Evelyn surfaced through it like someone clawing through liquid glass.

Every fragment of her mind lit up at once — memories, sensor loops, the endless hum of the Echo. But something was wrong. The world wasn’t rebuilding in order. It pulsed in fragments: corridors flickering into trees, city skylines melting into neural grids.

The ...