Arthur appears in the White Void, relief and fear etched across his face.
“He’s going to do what he can,” Arthur says, though the words land with more hope — or desperation — than certainty.
Sarah swims toward him, fighting the water — fighting memory itself for space.
“I’m scared.”
Arthur kisses her gently.
“Me too.”
A soft tone ripples outward across the water.
He checks the coin drive, worry tightening his breath.
ON DISPLAY:
WARNING: 19%
SHUTDOWN IMMINENT
Arthur barely has time to react before the Void yanks him away.
---
Deeper underground, below Linthera, sound shrinks to silence.
The chamber here is darker, denser — sacred. The walls pulse with a slow, deliberate glow. Vines glitter with embedded signal threads, organic conduits of living circuitry. Consoles unfurl like petals, exposing warm, breathing circuits beneath.
Valuun works in patient, methodical cycles.
“To help her, I must slow the decay.” He touches a console, light blooming beneath his palm. Then he looks to Arthur. “But to slow the decay… I must break the link.”
Arthur stands close, posture wound tight. He clutches the velvet pouch until his knuckles go white — then tighter still.
“She’s not just data. She’s aware.”
He glances at the failing drive.
“If you sever her, she’ll feel it.”
Valuun moves with practiced grace to another console unfurling from the bone-white wall — calm, unyielding.
“I know,” he says. “That is why I need your permission.”
The word lands heavier than the chamber.
Arthur doesn’t answer.
Returning to the first console, he touches a glowing seam, the gesture almost ritualistic.
“The tether between you has kept her alive,” he continues. “But it has also trapped her. She cannot heal while she is awake — split between you and this object.”
Arthur’s jaw trembles before he forces it still.
“She’s always awake.”
Valuun studies him — not judging, only seeing.
“Then she already knows this is coming.”
Arthur exhales, shaking.
“You’re asking me to do this.”
Valuun inclines his head.
“Yes.”
Arthur’s hands tremble around the pouch.
A long moment passes.
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Then —
a single nod.
“Do it.”
---
In the White Void, the water is almost still.
Light flickers dimly — faint, intermittent. Shelves lie collapsed. Books drift with torn pages. The hum has eroded into static, a snowy hiss on an ancient screen.
Arthur materializes again. The look on his face says everything.
The water now laps at his shoulders.
Sarah swims toward him.
But she’s farther away.
And flickering — her edges tearing, then knitting back together.
“You’re going to disconnect me.”
Arthur gestures weakly around them, as if the dying world itself could be his argument.
“Look around.”
He lowers his head — then forces himself to meet her eyes.
“It’s only for a while. He says it’s the only way.”
Sarah nods slowly — resigned, understanding. The choice is disconnect… or disappear.
“I know.”
Her voice distorts, skipping through static.
“If it works…” She drifts closer, shimmering at the seams.
“…what will I be when I come back?”
Arthur wades toward her, chest tightening.
“You’ll be… yourself.”
Sarah closes the remaining distance, water rippling between them.
“And if it doesn’t?”
She looks down into the dark water — searching for answers that aren’t there.
Arthur opens his mouth —
and finds nothing.
The Void answers for him.
The water surges again, climbing higher.
He wraps his arms around her, pulling her in as though this might be the second time he has to bury her. Then he finds the words.
“I’ll be here.”
He lifts her chin gently.
“I’ll wait for you.”
She breathes in — fragments of her dress flickering, stuttering, repairing. Fear sharpens her gaze… then gives way to choice.
“Then I’ll find my way back.”
She leans in to kiss him —
“Tell me something true… before it goes dark.”
Arthur’s throat constricts. He swallows, love overtaking fear.
“I still wake every morning thinking of you. Loving you. Even after all this time.”
Sarah’s smile is small, trembling, beautiful. Tears shimmer in her eyes.
“I know. I see it in your dreams.”
She rests her forehead against his.
“I love you.”
Arthur closes the gap, kissing her — deep, desperate, eternal.
“Since the day you walked into my life… until the end of me,” he whispers, voice breaking. “I love you.”
Static erupts at the edges — louder, hungrier.
The water darkens first at the perimeter, then creeps inward.
Arthur blinks out of the Void, tears sliding freely down his face.
The disconnect has begun.
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