The sign still said MAREL.
Leran walked through the doorway before anyone stopped him.
“Elvar,” Neris said.
She was already following.
Elvar went after them.
The doorway opened onto another platform.
Half of it was there.
The other half showed through to somewhere else.
A bench ended in open darkness.
One wall had old advertisements.
The next section was bare brick.
Station lights turned on only when an Echo passed beneath them.
Marel looked less broken than unfinished.
Leran stopped under the sign.
For the first time since the factory disappeared, he did not seem interested in getting out.
Neris checked the floor before moving farther.
“Stay on complete sections.”
Leran ignored her.
“Elvar.”
“I know.”
He caught up and moved beside him.
Leran touched the blue ring around the station sign.
Same blue as the clock.
Same blue as the button he had known how to open.
“You were here.”
Leran kept his hand on the sign.
“My mother brought me once.”
That was more than he had said before.
“How old?”
“Seven.
Maybe eight.”
“Where were you going?”
“Home.”
Leran looked down the platform.
“We missed our normal train.
She said Marel would be faster.”
Neris stopped checking the floor.
Leran continued before either of them asked.
“I remembered the blue clocks.
The button boxes.
I remembered buying a sweet from a machine that ate her first coin.”
A small laugh almost came out.
It did not.
“Two years later I asked why we never used Marel anymore.”
“What did she say?” Elvar asked.
“That there was no Marel.”
The station bell rang once.
Leran looked toward the sound.
“My father said the same thing.
My aunt.
Everyone.”
“Maybe they forgot.”
“No.”
Leran faced him.
“They remembered me talking about it.
They remembered arguing with me about it.
They just didn’t remember the station.”
Elvar had no answer for that.
So he did not make one.
Echo passengers started appearing along the platform.
Some came through walls.
Some only became visible when they reached the complete sections.
Neris moved closer to Leran.
“Do you remember what your mother wore?”
“No.”
“Her face?”
“Yes.”
“Anything she did here?”
Leran nodded slowly.
“She hated loose tickets.”
Neris waited.
Then again.
Kept tapping her coat pocket because she thought she’d lost them.”
An Echo woman appeared near the ticket barrier.
Leran stopped.
Elvar saw why.
Not because of her face.
He could barely make that out.
The woman carried two tickets.
She folded them in half.
Then again.
Put them into her coat pocket.
Took three steps.
Tapped the pocket.
Once.
Twice.
Then returned to the barrier.
The sequence reset.
Fold.
Fold.
Pocket.
Three steps.
Two taps.
Leran did not move.
Neris watched him instead of the Echo.
“Is that her?” Elvar asked quietly.
Neris answered first.
“I don’t know.”
“Do people talk to Echoes?”
“Some do.”
“What happens?”
“Different things.”
Neris kept her eyes on the woman.
“None of it tells us what they are.”
“You didn’t even look properly.”
“I looked.”
“Then?”
Neris kept her voice low.
“An Echo repeating something your mother did does not tell me what the Echo is.”
Leran was still watching the woman.
Elvar understood the distinction.
He did not like it.
The Echo began again.
Fold.
Fold.
Pocket.
Three steps.
Tap.
Tap.
This time she paused.
Barely.
Her head turned a little toward them.
Elvar felt his attention lock onto it.
Leran took one step forward.
Neris did not stop him.
The woman reset.
Back at the barrier.
Fold.
Fold.
Pocket.
The tiny turn was gone.
Leran took another step.
“Elvar,” Neris said.
Not a warning.
A reminder.
They did not know what they were looking at.
Leran was close enough to speak now.
His mouth opened.
The Echo woman tapped her pocket twice.
Leran closed his mouth.
Then he stepped back.
Elvar waited.
“Why didn’t you call her?”
Leran’s eyes stayed on the Echo.
“Because if she turns around, I won’t know why.”
That ended the question.
The Echo repeated the ritual again.
Leran let her.
Neris moved first.
“We should check the exit while this section is stable.”
Leran nodded.
He followed.
No one told him he had made the right choice.
That helped.
They reached an old route board.
Most of the station names were readable.
Talven South.
Oren.
Marel.
Veyra.
Elvar ran a finger under the sequence.
“There should be another station here.”
A clean gap sat between Marel and Veyra.
Not a scratched-out name.
Not damaged paint.
Space.
Leran stared at it.
“I don’t remember.”
Neris checked the mounting behind the board.
“No removed plate.”
“So it was made like that?”
“Looks like it.”
A group of Echo passengers arrived.
They checked the board.
Nobody reacted to the blank space.
One woman pointed at Veyra.
A man beside her nodded.
Normal.
The gap meant nothing to them.
A whistle sounded.
The conductor from the first platform walked into Marel.
Leran stiffened.
The conductor stopped beneath the route board.
He called the first station.
Then the second.
Marel.
The passengers shifted.
The conductor opened his mouth for the next destination.
Silence.
His lips formed something.
No sound came out.
Nobody on the platform reacted.
Then he said Veyra.
The passengers started moving.
Elvar watched the blank slot on the board.
Then the conductor.
Same missing place.
Written nowhere.
Spoken nowhere.
But the Route still left room for it.
Neris was watching too.
This time she did not say maybe.
The conductor continued down the platform.
The Echo woman near the barrier folded her tickets again.
Leran turned away first.
“Let’s go.”
Elvar followed him.
Behind them, the conductor began the route call again.
Marel.
Then the silence.