Elias was falling.
Not through air or water, but through something denser—a black, formless medium that pressed against his skin and filled his mouth with the taste of old metal. He tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't obey. He tried to breathe, but there was no air, only the thick, cold weight of the Silence pressing down on him.
Brother.
The voice came from everywhere. Not the false Architect this time, but something deeper, older. It was the same voice from his dream, the one that had called him brother on the plain of black glass. Now it was inside his skull, curling around his thoughts like smoke.
You cannot fight me. I am you. I have always been you.
Elias forced his mind to focus. He was still alive. He could feel his heart beating—slow, too slow—and the distant hum of the net
