Page 907 - Enders_Game_Full_Book

Outside the little starship, the others waited. What did they expect? That the ship would start to smoke and jiggle? That there would be a thunderclap, a flash of light?
The ship was there. It was there, and still there, unmoving, unchanged. And then it was gone.
They felt nothing inside the ship when it happened. There was no sound, no movement to hint of motion from Inspace into Outspace.
But they knew the moment it occurred, because there were no longer three of them, but six.
Ender found himself seated between two people, a young man and a young woman. But he had no time even to glance at them, for all he could look at was the man seated in what had been the empty seat across from him.
"Miro," he whispered. For that was who it was. But not Miro the cripple, the damaged young man who had boarded the ship with him. That one was still sitting in the next chair to Ender's left. This Miro was the strong young man that Ender had first known. The man whose strength had been the hope of his family, whose beauty had been the pride of Ouanda's life, whose mind and whose heart had taken compassion on the pequeninos and refused to leave them without the benefits he thought that human culture might offer them. Miro, whole and restored.
Where had he come from?
"I should have known," said Ender. "We should have thought. The pattern of yourself that you hold in your mind, Miro-- it isn't the way you are, it's the way you were. "
The new Miro, the young Miro, he raised his head and smiled to Ender. "I thought of it," he said, and his speech was clear and beautiful, the words rolling easily off his tongue. "I hoped for it. I begged Jane to take me with her because of it. And it came true. Exactly as I longed for it."
"But now there are two of you," said Ela. She sounded horrified.
"No," said the new Miro. "Just me. Just the real me."
"But that one's still there," she said.
"Not for long, I think," said Miro. "That old shell is empty now."
And it was true. The old Miro slumped within his seat like a dead man. Ender knelt in front of him, touched him. He pressed his fingers to Miro's neck, feeling for a pulse.
"Why should the heart beat now?" said Miro. "I'm the place where Miro's aiua dwells."
When Ender took his fingers away from the old Miro's throat, the skin came away in a small puff of dust. Ender shied back. The head dropped forward off the shoulders and landed in the corpse's