The first strike wasn't Solin's.
It was Cael's instinct — not Arik's training, not some leftover subroutine.
Just raw, desperate will.
He dove aside as Solin's blade hissed down, metal slicing into floor tile where Cael's head had been seconds before.
The Thirian echoes flickered.
One staggered, caught in the command standoff.
Another hissed — high-pitched, digital distortion wrapped in breath.
They wanted orders.
And they didn't care whose.
Cael rolled to his feet and shouted:
"Class-Shift Priority Thread: Lock Echoes — Obey current-user designation Cael.Command: Hold position. Do not engage any entity."
The echoes stilled.
All but one.
That one lunged at Solin.
Solin moved like liquid.
No hesitation, no pause — just a fluid pivot and the echo was already collapsing mid-air, cut in half.
Its pieces hit the floor.
And began to glitch.
Cael's mark burned again.
A data spike entered his bloodstream — metaphorical but real.
He shouted another line:
"Echo recovery protocol: Initiate fallback. Halt pain threads."
The echo's body stopped twitching.
And then began to reassemble.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
"You're adapting," Solin snarled.
"So are they," Cael shot back.
"That's what I'm afraid of."
Solin surged forward, blade a blur.
Cael ducked — barely — and tried to issue another override.
But the command stuttered in his mouth.
"Awaiting thread validation…"
The system wasn't listening fast enough.
Then Lira stepped in.
A short-range grav baton hummed to life in her hand, catching Solin across the ribs with a crack.
He reeled — not from damage, but surprise.
"Forgot about me?" she said.
"No," he spat. "You're just… irrelevant."
He tried to stab her.
She caught the blade in her teeth.
Bit.
And broke it.
The Thirian echoes, still glitched, began twitching again — no longer waiting.
They were changing.
Some began copying Cael's voice.
Some stood like statues, absorbing data from the room.
One leaned against the wall, whispering:
"I remember dying here. I remember not existing here."
Cael saw the instability rising.
He shouted one last time:
"Command code: Sleep Echoes.Suspend all threads until next direct override."
The room fell silent.
The echoes collapsed — not dead.
Just… paused.
Like chess pieces mid-game.
Solin backed off, bleeding now.
"This isn't over."
"It never is," Cael said.
Solin looked at the ruined echoes.
At the broken sword in his hand.
Then turned — and walked away.
Cael slumped against the wall.
Lira sat beside him, breathing hard.
"I think we just started a war," he muttered.
"No," she said.
"We just reminded the dead how to think."
End of Chapter 17: Echoes Can Bleed Too