When silence consumed the gods, one vibration remained. Not light, not flame — but resonance. The Echo is serenity fractured by distortion, a divine face intact yet crossed by horizontal waves. Its halo no longer burns; it oscillates, a waveform of memory pulsing across the void. This is persistence beyond erasure — the glitch that endures, the signal that refuses deletion. Resonant Echo is not rebirth. It is resistance.