"You don't run from the Collector.
You vanish.
Or you become… part of him."
Lengaza didn't remember grabbing Nyra's hand.
He didn't remember the Market collapsing into black feathers.
He only remembered running.
But not the sound of feet.
Because in this place—
Their footsteps didn't exist.
Behind them, the Collector did not chase.
He simply appeared.
One blink too long, one skipped breath—and he'd be closer.
Lengaza gasped, "Who is he?!"
Nyra's voice was tight. "The one sent to erase what the world regrets creating."
"You mean… me?"
Nyra stopped in a shimmer of blue flame. "You weren't supposed to wake up. But you did. And now he's hunting you."
They ducked into a crumbling corridor made of shattered picture frames.
Each frame showed a different version of Lengaza:
One laughing with friends,
One older, holding someone's hand,
One... with glowing eyes and a crown of feathers.
"These are possible selves," Nyra said.
"Lives you were meant to live."
"Why did they erase me?"
Nyra looked at him—eyes soft, sad. "Because you remembered too much… and asked the wrong question."
A rumble shook the corridor.
The Collector's voice filled the air, soft like silk over blades:
"Return, Lengaza.
Or I'll erase the ones you almost loved."
Nyra pulled him to a spiral staircase made of falling clock parts.
"There's a portal at the top," she said.
"But it only opens with a code."
Lengaza's heart thundered. "What code?!"
She placed his hand on her chest.
"It's inside you. Say your truth."
The Collector appeared at the bottom of the staircase.
He raised a finger—time froze.
The feathers around them stopped mid-air.
Nyra fell, unmoving.
Only Lengaza could still move.
He stepped forward, mouth trembling.
"I don't remember my name.
But I remember pain.
And I know… I don't want to forget anymore."
A pulse exploded from him—silver and blue.
The staircase reformed, and time cracked open.
Nyra gasped. The Collector was thrown backward.
A door opened.
Lengaza stepped through with Nyra—just before the Collector's mask cracked.
And beneath it—
Was a face Lengaza almost remembered.
Someone once… important.