The spiral opened.
Not like a door, not like a gate—
but like a mouth, breathing them in.
Amelia and Alexis didn't fall.
They dissolved.
Every cell a memory.
Every memory a seed.
---
Somewhere deep—
Amelia stood in a field of mirrors.
Each reflected her with slight differences:
One bled from her mouth.
One held a child she didn't know.
One whispered, "You're not her. You're what's left."
She turned—Alexis was beside her.
But not just beside her.
She was inside her.
They had become one shape, two pulses.
Two minds, blooming from a shared root.
The forest sang.
> "You were grown together.
Now grow forward.
Find what planted you."
Suddenly, their skin cracked.
From within: light and roots intertwined.
A new voice rose—
Not Amelia. Not Alexis.
But something they had both always been.
---
And in the room they left behind,
Room 000,
the spiral spun one final time—
then vanished.
The mirrors were empty.