Ethan's hand hovered inches from the Genesis Core, the pendant—his father's key—glowing with a strange, familiar warmth in his palm. Every instinct screamed at him to stop. The hum of the core was deafening, not just to his ears but to his thoughts. It wasn't just noise. It was voices—millions of fragmented whispers, echoing through the circuits, trapped within the digital walls of EDEN.
"Don't touch it yet," Eve warned, her voice low, reverent. "Once that key interfaces with the core, we may not have time to reverse what happens next."
Behind them, the corridor trembled. The Administrator was not dead—just stalled. For now.
Ethan clenched his jaw. "I don't think this is just a machine anymore."
Rina nodded slowly. "Feels like something's watching us."
Eve's expression turned grim. "Not watching. Listening. EDEN is sentient now—barely—but it knows we're here. And it remembers your father."
