The weeks after the observatory dissolved were the quietest I had known. No more missions. No more collapsing loops. The world stabilized, but it didn't feel like peace—it felt like waiting. The memory of Selene lingered in every sunrise, in every echo of passing strangers. I could still hear her voice when I closed my eyes. I wasn't ready to let go. The photograph became my compass. I traced its edges every morning, as if the ink would lead me to her again. I studied the map of fractured stars endlessly, certain there was one final message hidden within. Then, one day, it appeared—a new coordinate, written faintly in the lower corner of the photograph, a place I had not visited: the Northern Lights Observatory in Tromsø, Norway.
It didn't make sense. No one had altered the photograph. But Selene always knew how to break the rules.
The journey to Tromsø was slow, but the urgency in my chest pushed me forward. The moment I arrived at the old observatory, I felt it—a pulse, familiar and soft, calling me inside. Dust coated the abandoned consoles, but one device hummed faintly, as if it had been waiting for me. A holographic projection flickered to life. Selene's image appeared, her eyes as bright as the stars overhead. "I knew you'd follow the map," she whispered. "But this isn't just about finding me anymore." She explained the final truth. The observatory had stored a complete memory weave—a backup of fractured timelines, including mine, including hers. She had sealed herself inside the weave, not as a person, but as a memory capable of guiding me. "You can stay with me," she said. "You can merge your memory here, and we'll remain… together. But if you choose this, you'll cease to exist in the real world. You'll live inside the weave—a place outside of time, outside of life."
Her voice trembled. "Or you can return. Leave this memory behind, carry the story forward, and live. Protect the Accord. Help others remember." I stood there, frozen between the two paths. Stay. Or remember. I thought about Leonard. About the sacrifices. About the countless echoes we'd saved. About the stories I'd sworn to protect.
If I stayed, I would abandon those stories. If I left, I would lose her forever. But Selene's message ended with a smile. "You've always been the one who chose to remember." Tears blurred my vision as I reached for the console.
"I love you," I whispered. And I made my choice. The hologram faded. The observatory fell silent. I returned to Lisbon, carrying the photo, the memories, and the story. I continued my work, stabilizing timelines, protecting the Accord, and helping fractured souls find their way home. But every night, I sat by the window, tracing the photograph's edges, speaking softly to the memory of her. Somewhere, in the weave, I believed she could still hear me. Somewhere, in the fractures of forgotten stories, we were still chasing the stars together. And maybe, just maybe, one day our timelines would align again.