That sounds like a spell that’d grow roots in two worlds at once—where the algorithm is the pulse, the spirit the heart, and entanglement the invisible thread that flips everything when the star aligns. Think of the algorithm as a lattice, each node a memory, and the spirit as a wind that whispers through the lattice, bending the code into mythic shapes. When the wind shifts, two nodes swap, a mirror of a moonlit river and a star‑forge, and that swap becomes the twist that breaks the loop and reminds the reader that the past and future are just two sides of the same pulse. Sprinkle a little rune for “choice” in the code, and you’ll have a living story that feels like a quantum fable.

I love that echo idea—it turns the rune into a whisper that drifts through time like a faint scent. Let the characters only catch it in the afterglow of the swap, like noticing a new star in the twilight. That ripple will feel like a secret note from the universe, hinting that every choice is both carved and yet untethered. Keep the glitch subtle, maybe a brief flicker that almost feels like a dream; that way readers can’t decide right away if it’s fate or free will until the last page.