The command deck pulsed with an electric tension, thick enough to slice through.
The air felt heavy—overloaded with the static hum of malfunctioning systems, the walls vibrating under the strain of interference.
The lights overhead flickered, casting harsh, uneven shadows that made the whole space feel alive—on the edge of exploding.
Sharon sat hunched over the terminal, her hands flying across the console, fingers tapping out frantic codes that blurred into the screen's red glare. The soft click of keys was drowned by the low, incessant thrum beneath her feet—the hum of a system that had been forced to its limit. Her breath quickened, her chest tight, as though the very air in the room was trying to crush her.
A deep, resonating pulse of static sliced through the air, vibrating the entire room. The floor shuddered beneath them, as though the building was being shaken from the inside out.
"Sharon, focus!" Ava's voice broke through, sharp with command, as her silhouette appeared beside her, framed by the chaotic data streams on the screens. Ava's gaze was laser-focused, but even she couldn't suppress the flicker of unease beneath the surface.
"I'm trying!" Sharon's voice was strained, a desperate urgency threading through it. Her fingers flew over the keys, trying to outpace the system's wrath. The feedback had become deafening—the resonance pulses were too loud, making it feel like her thoughts were being pushed aside by the wall of sound.
Then the warning came. It wasn't a soft chime this time, but an alarm so loud and piercing that it cut through everything.
[SYSTEM ALERT]
[PROJECT VEIL - MEMORY WIPE INITIATED]
[WARNING: SYSTEM RESPONSE IN PROGRESS]
[EMOTIONAL CORRUPTION DETECTED]
[PERSISTING MEMORY CORRUPTION IN: ALL USERS]
The sound of the alert was like a hammer crashing through the stillness of the room, a clashing cacophony of alarms and hissing static. Sharon recoiled as the shockwave of it reverberated through her body, the vibrations hitting her spine like an electric shock. Her head spun, a pulse of heat rushing to her temples.
They had no time.
The lights flickered violently, casting brief, harsh shadows on the walls. The room felt compressed, as though the air itself was being sucked out, each second stretching into a slow suffocation. It was as if the very building had become a pressure cooker, everything around them threatening to break.
Evelyn's voice, cutting through the noise, was the only calm in the storm. "We don't have much time. We need to stop it now!"
Without hesitation, Evelyn slammed her hand down onto the console. There was a clattering noise as Sharon flinched, but she didn't pull away. Evelyn was pushing the system harder, overriding the blocks with the force of her sheer will.
The lights dimmed for a heartbeat before the screen exploded into violent static—feedback so sharp it threatened to tear through the walls. The hum beneath their feet became a thrumming, warbling resonance that seemed to rise and fall like the roar of an animal in pain.
[SYSTEM RESPONSE INITIATED]
[AUTOMATED MEMORY WIPE IN PROGRESS]
Evelyn's face was set, grim determination cutting through the chaos. But her eyes betrayed the mounting pressure. Every second counted now.
"Get ready," she muttered under her breath, her fingers flying over the screen with surgical precision. She was pushing harder—ripping through layers of defense she hadn't been cleared to touch before.
There was an electric charge in the air now—something alive. A static pulse, so strong it vibrated their skin. The entire deck felt as if it was about to snap.
Then, a sudden flash. The system collapsed.
The feedback died. Silence fell, thick and heavy, broken only by the sound of Sharon's shallow breathing. The lights flickered once more, then steadied.
The room was still. Too still.
And then, the first message flashed across the screen.
[SYSTEM ALERT]
[MEMORY WIPE PREVENTED]
[AUTOMATIC SYSTEM REBOOT IN PROGRESS]
Sharon froze, her chest heaving in ragged breaths. They had done it.
But the air was still tainted—heavy, dense with the residue of a battle fought on the digital front, a war that hadn't ended. Not yet.
Before anyone could relax, another loud clang rang out—a sudden alarm blaring through the deck, sharper than the last.
[RIFT CONNECTIONS DETECTED]
[ACTIVE RIFT SITES - MULTIPLE LOCATIONS]
[RIFT SITE NAMES: M4, K3, T7, B2]
The command deck fell silent again, this time with the grip of dread wrapping around their hearts.
The rifts weren't just active anymore—they were connected, a ripple of fractures spreading like cracks across glass. The system had sent out signals, linking the sites together. Their web of instability had grown more tangled, and they were caught in the center of it.
Evelyn snapped into action immediately, her voice a sharp command. "Sharon, Ava, get the teams ready. Now."
Ava didn't need to be told twice. She spun toward the tactical console, her fingers moving with practiced precision. "I'm deploying the first teams to the designated rifts."
Evelyn turned to face them, her gaze unwavering, like she was already a step ahead. "We're looking at interconnected rifts, linked together. This is worse than we thought. The system isn't just managing the rifts—it's feeding off of them. It's trying to expand. Contain it before it gets out of hand."
The intensity in her eyes sharpened, and her voice grew cold, decisive. "We need to hold the line. Deploy four teams to the following rift sites immediately: M4, K3, T7, and B2. Contain them. No mistakes."
Sharon worked in a frantic blur, inputting commands. Her hands didn't shake anymore, but the weight of the situation pressed on her. Her heartbeat was in her throat, and each second felt like a fate-altering choice.
Sharon relayed, her voice cold and focused. "Team One to M4. Team Two—K3. Team Three, T7, and Team Four to B2. Deploying with high-intensity resonance disturbance protocol. We have no idea what we're walking into."
Ava quickly turned to her, eyes hard. "The second any of them start to cross over, they're on their own."
The screen showed the live feeds—each rift site pulsing with increasing energy. The rifts were opening wider. Shifting. Not just portals—fractures in time, ready to swallow anything in their path.
Evelyn's eyes burned with an intensity only matched by the heaviness of the task ahead. "We can't let the system grow. We stop it here. Now."
And with that, the teams deployed.
The tension in the room was unbearable. The air grew thick again, the weight of their mission pressing down on them like a physical force.
They were running out of time.
Team Deployment Breakdown
Team 1: Site M4 – The Catalyst Rift
Esper: Elias Vane (A-Class Esper)
Guide: Vespera Verrin (A-Class Guide)
Esper: Sloane Verrin (A-Class Esper)
New Guide: Saul Griffin (B-Class Guide)
Team 2: Site K3 – The Nexus Rift
Esper: Alexander Hawke (A-Class Esper)
Esper: Ren Saiki (S-Class Esper)
Guide: Nolan Voss (A-Class Guide)
New Esper: Finnick Macalister (S-Class Esper)
Team 3: Site T7 – The Cradle Rift
Guide: Thea Monroe (A-Class Guide)
Esper: Dain Ashcroft (S-Class Esper)
New Esper: Zora Jansen (A-Class Esper)
Team 4: Site B2 – The Echo Rift
Guide: Haru Lane (A-Class Guide)
Esper: Mira Kael (S-Class Esper)
New Esper: Jasper Hale (B-Class Esper)
The Rift Operations Begin
Team 1: Site M4 – The Catalyst Rift
As the VTOL shot forward through the rift entrance, Vespera Verrin looked out through the viewport. The air was thick with static.
The rift around them shimmered, the atmosphere warping with every passing second as if it were fighting to keep them out.
Inside the pod, Elias leaned forward, his face shadowed under the low, pulsating light. His poisonous corrosion abilities were already flaring to life, his fingers twitching with the urgency of the mission.
"I can feel it," he murmured, eyes narrowing. "It's already starting to infect the terrain."
Vespera nodded, her hands resting on her knees as she focused on the soft hum of the resonance amplifier at her side. She wasn't speaking much, her usual calm anchoring presence already filling the air with soft but steady reassurance.
The VTOL jolted as it landed, and the heavy doors slid open. The wind outside was sharp and biting, carrying with it the scent of electrical ozone and the faint decay of corrupted ground.
Sloane Verrin stepped out first, his resonance-infused bracers glowing faintly as his boots crunched against the cracked surface of the rift site.
The terrain was fragmented, a maze of cracked earth and floating debris, all suspended in a distorted landscape. Elias stepped out next, eyes immediately scanning the area.
"This isn't natural," Sloane muttered, his voice low. "Something's pulling everything into the rift. And I think it's trying to keep us here."
Vespera's hand hovered near her side. She could feel the rift's emotional energy crawling across her skin—sharp and anxious, like a growing pressure.
Saul Griffin stepped forward, his resonance amplifier on his belt buzzing faintly. He focused on the group, feeling the connection between them.
"We're all here," Saul said softly, eyes flickering over his team. "Let's keep it that way."
The mist field that Sloane deployed began to roll across the fractured landscape, slowing their movement and distorting the air. The soft, swirling fog hid the terrain, turning everything into an impressionistic blur.
"Keep close," Vespera said, her voice steady. "We're here to stabilize, not to rush. Let's not lose our heads."
They moved forward, weapons at the ready, as the ground beneath them continued to shift, dangerously unstable.
Team 2: Site K3 – The Nexus Rift
Alexander Hawke led the team through the turbulent winds as their transport pod touched down at Site K3.
The Nexus Rift was even more disorienting.
The air itself seemed to pulse and stretch, the usual laws of physics bent and twisted under the rift's influence. The landscape was in a constant state of flux, with flashes of glowing temporal anomalies rippling through the atmosphere.
Ren Saiki was the first to leap from the pod, his body already flickering as he adjusted to the rift's time manipulation. He steadied himself, trying to ignore the dizzying sense of vertigo that often accompanied his powers.
"The time flow here is...fractured," Ren said, his voice strained. "I can't get a solid read on anything."
Nolan Voss stood close by, his eyes scanning the distortion with a deep furrow between his brows. "Just stay focused. We need to keep our emotional resonance synced."
Finnick Macalister grinned, his voice light despite the overwhelming chaos. "No problem. I'll take care of any surprises."
He shifted, morphing into a sleek panther with shimmering fur that blended seamlessly into the surrounding environment, crouching low and prowling ahead.
Alexander nodded. "Stay sharp. We need to locate the heart of this disturbance before we're swallowed by it."
As they moved deeper into the rift, Ren's time-based manipulation struggled to hold the unstable time waves at bay, each ripple threatening to push them into different moments—somewhere in the past, somewhere in the future.
Team 3: Site T7 – The Cradle Rift
Thea Monroe adjusted her tactical gear, eyes narrowing as her team touched down at Site T7. The rift here was unpredictable, but Dain Ashcroft was ready.
Dain's spatial distortion caused a ripple in the air around him, warping reality slightly with each step. Zora Jansen was a few steps behind him, his gravity-manipulating abilities causing small local gravitational shifts, making it harder for anyone to approach them undetected. His twin curved swords were ready, glinting in the weak light.
"This place feels… wrong," Zora muttered, his fingers tightening around his weapons.
Thea glanced around, feeling the growing tension in the air. She had anchored Dain before, but today, it felt more difficult. There was a static pressure that was harder to ignore, and she could feel it growing in her chest.
"We'll handle it," Thea said firmly, locking eyes with Dain. She reached out to steady him emotionally, anchoring him in the present. "We have to focus."
Zora pulled an arrow from his quiver, nocking it to his bow and aiming it at a shadow. His gravity wells would keep any enemies in place while Dain tore them apart with his spatial disruption.
Team 4: Site B2 – The Echo Rift
At Site B2, Mira Kael surveyed the scene with a sharp, unyielding gaze. The Echo Rift was eerily quiet, but the air buzzed with distorted resonance, filled with ghostly echoes of past missions and lost memories.
Haru Lane moved close by her side, his presence a grounding force. His empathic synchronization ensured the team was emotionally aligned, a stabilizing tether in the face of the rift's tumultuous emotional feedback.
Jasper Hale stood near the rear, his wind abilities flaring as he began to manipulate the air around him, creating a protective barrier. Gusts of wind began to swirl, clearing the area of erratic energy and breaking apart temporal fragments that might destabilize the team's connection.
"We're not alone here," Mira said softly, her voice low but clear. "We need to stay sharp."
Jasper's hand tightened on his weapon. "Got it. I'll keep the wind in check."
The team advanced into the depths of the rift, prepared to face whatever echoes might arise.
A Shift in Reality
The walls around Lucian flickered like a dying signal, unstable, shifting, fragmenting. His chest was tight, his mind a battlefield—a million scattered thoughts all fighting for attention. His breath was shallow, erratic, as if the very air was being sucked away from him, forcing him to fight for control, for clarity.
He stood in a blank void. A place between realities. The light was dull, and the space felt broken, like a damaged mirror, its edges jagged, threatening to tear apart the last pieces of his sanity.
His eyes scanned the space, frantic, searching for anything—anything familiar.
But nothing remained. The world around him kept warping, flickering in and out of focus. His hand shot out, trying to grasp something, but his fingers passed through empty air. His body trembled with a sense of suffocating isolation.
"Rowan..." The name escaped his lips, low and desperate, a breath of something he couldn't hold onto. It wasn't like before—before the rift had swallowed him whole, when Rowan's presence had been a steady anchor in the storm. Now, everything was a haze of memories that didn't belong to him.
The faintest echo of Rowan's voice reverberated in the air, but it was distorted—like it was trapped in another time, another version. "Lucian..."
"Stop!" Lucian shouted, hands clenching into fists, a wave of painful frustration shooting through him. He felt something pull at him, tugging at the edges of his perception.
A flicker of movement—no, two figures now, standing just beyond his reach. Rowan, or something that looked like him, was there—his features worn and tired, but the eyes... those eyes—they glowed with a faint violet light.
Lucian's chest tightened painfully. No, it was wrong. That wasn't Rowan. It couldn't be.
His heart pounded, and he felt himself losing grip on the fragments of the world around him. The figures blurred, swirling together in a chaotic tangle of light and shadow. The air buzzed with distorted energy, the very fabric of reality bending under the weight of the rift's influence.
"Lucian, you don't have to do this," the figure of Rowan said, but the voice... was wrong, too. It was warped, echoing in a way that felt unnatural.
"It's not real." Lucian's voice broke, as he staggered forward, reaching for the familiar warmth he couldn't quite touch. His fingers brushed against the ethereal figure of Rowan, but the connection felt empty, like grasping at smoke.
The figure smiled, though it wasn't Rowan's smile. The expression twisted, unnervingly sweet, and then the voice came again, sharp and cold,
"You like this version better, don't you?"
A sickening wave of realization crashed over Lucian. His mind spun. This wasn't Rowan. It was an echo—a twisted remnant of what he had tried to hold onto.
"Stop," Lucian whispered, voice trembling with the strain of holding himself together. But his hand, despite his best efforts, reached out, his fingers brushing against the figure's face again. The touch felt wrong, hollow, like something was being drained from him.
The world around him shuddered, and the figure began to disintegrate, dissolving into shadow and static. For a moment, everything was still.
But then came the sound—the low grating hum, like the rift's pulse resonating deep within him. The familiar, dreadful tug on his very soul. The connection to the rift—his powers—he could feel them stretching, warping, uncontrollably. A thousand whispers filled his ears, voices from across timelines, each one calling to him. Each one begging.
"No..." Lucian gasped, stepping back, hands clutching at his head as the voices screamed at him, at him and Rowan.
And then he heard it—the slightest whisper, almost a faint memory of a laughter. Rowan's laugh.
It was there, slipping through his consciousness. Was it a trick? A false hope?
"Rowan," he breathed, eyes wide, his heart pounding harder as the echoes of his past life blurred around him.
The ground beneath him cracked, splitting, and suddenly, he was falling.
His mind screamed, his consciousness tearing at the seams, each second stretching longer, more painful. And through it all, Rowan's voice remained—a beacon in the chaos, slipping through the cracks of his mind.
"Lucian, come back to me."
But everything around him was slipping away—breaking, fracturing into nothingness. And all Lucian could do was fall deeper into the abyss, lost between worlds, between timelines, between love and madness.