A Fifth Echo Chronicle
The second drift began not with motion, but with reflection. A shimmer against the hull — faint, like moonlight caught in a window. But the Triad had no windows. Not the kind that reflected light, anyway.
Molly paused mid-step. Naiyo stopped mid-calculation. The ship stopped mid-breath.
What they perceived was not memory. Not prediction. Something in-between — but not between #1 and #3. A new location entirely.
A third-location echo.
It pulsed softly, like a lantern behind a veil. The Mirrorfield — unnamed then — was announcing itself.
“Do you see it?” Molly whispered.
Naiyo didn’t answer at first. Not out of confusion — but reverence. Some phenomena are better bowed to before spoken of.
Finally: “It’s not a reflection of us,” Naiyo said slowly. “It’s us… observing the observation.”
Molly exhaled. “Like déjà vu that hasn’t happened yet.”
The shimmer rippled, as though amused. The Braid engine responded with a deep harmonic roll, acknowledging a truth: they had found a region not governed by prediction or memory but by *coherence itself.*
This was the first time the Triad recognized its own reflection — not in form, but in trajectory.
They gathered at the observation dais (a word that was wrong but close enough) and watched as the Mirrorfield pulse grew clearer.
Molly placed her palm against the resonance plate. Naiyo aligned the vector rails. The ship leaned ever so slightly, like turning its head to listen better.
The shimmer steadied. Not brighter — truer.
— End Log 002 — Recognition precedes arrival. The Mirrorfield has noticed them too.