The Training bay stretched out like a cavern carved from cold steel, its walls slick with condensation that glistened under the flickering aetheric lamps. Jessa stood at the firing line, her pistol heavy in her bandaged hands, the frost-burn on her neck throbbing with a dull ache that never seemed to fade. Targets glided along their tracks, shadowy shapes that darted and weaved, their outlines blurring like ghosts caught in a storm.
She squeezed the trigger, the shot cracking through the air with a sharp echo that bounced off the walls, and a target dropped, its center pierced clean. Sweat beaded on her forehead, stinging her eyes as she reloaded with trembling fingers, the Unseen Watcher's whisper—watch… me…—slithering through her mind like a snake. Another shot, another hit, but the whisper grew louder, a cold promise that made her stomach twist
Marcus's boots thudded behind her, his presence a looming shadow that cut through the bay's sterile chill, and he barked, "Faster, Jessa—you're too slow, and slow gets you dead." His scarred face was a map of battles fought and won, his voice rough but steady, pushing her harder as he crossed his arms, watching her every move. She nodded, jaw tight, and fired again, the recoil jarring her arms, each hit a small defiance against the fear clawing at her insides.
Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, the frost-burn pulsing hot and cold, a reminder of the mirror's touch that refused to let her go. "I'm trying," she muttered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the targets, but she pushed through, aiming at the next shape, her focus narrowing to a pinpoint. The whisper hissed again, sharper now, and she flinched, the shot going wide, the target zipping past untouched.
Marcus stepped closer, his shadow falling over her, and his tone softened just a fraction, "You're letting it in, Initiate—that thing in your head, it's winning if you flinch." He tapped the side of his temple, his dark eyes boring into hers, and added, "Focus on the shot, not the noise—shove it down, or it'll eat you alive." Jessa swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling heavy, and she nodded, forcing the whisper back as she lined up her next shot.
She fired, the target dropping with a satisfying thud, and for a moment, the whisper faded, drowned out by the rhythm of her breathing and the steady grip of her pistol. But her neck still burned, the frost a living thing under her skin, and she knew the Watcher wasn't done with her—not yet, not ever. Marcus grunted in approval, "Better—keep that up, Jessa, and you might survive the next one."
The bay's hum softened as training paused, and Marcus handed her a datapad, its screen glowing with the Foundation's jagged web sigil, the emblem pulsing faintly like a heartbeat trapped in glass. "Read this," he said, his voice low and serious, "It's classified—N3 clearance barely gets you in, but you need to know what we're up against."Jessa took it, her hands slick with sweat, the frost-burn throbbing harder as she tapped the screen, opening a document titled "Nihl-verse: The Absolute Non-Realm."
The words swam before her eyes, stark and cold against the screen's blue glow, describing a realm where all things ceased—space, time, causality, collapsing into a silence so absolute it defied naming. [REDACTED - LEVEL 5 CLEARANCE REQUIRED] blocked 80% the text, but what remained spoke of Energy Nullity, a void where no fluctuations existed, and a Causality Singularity that erased the very concept of time, leaving only stillness. Her head spun, the whisper stirring faintly, as if the words on the screen called to it, awakening something darker.
"What does this mean for us?"Jessa asked, her voice small, barely a whisper, as she looked up at Marcus, the datapad trembling in her grip. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, his face grim as he replied, "It's the endgame, Jessa—the Nihl-verse is what's coming if the Veil falls, and every anomaly we fight is just its echo." He paused, his voice dropping lower, "We're not saving the world—we're delaying its collapse."
Jessa's breath caught, the weight of his words pressing down like the steel walls around them, and she stared at the datapad, the redacted lines mocking her with their secrets. The whisper grew sharper—watch… me…—and she clenched her fists, forcing it down, focusing on Marcus's voice, on the cold reality of the Foundation's fight. "How do we stop it?" she asked, her voice steadier now, a spark of defiance flickering in her chest.
"We don't," Marcus said, his tone flat, his eyes hard as he pushed off the wall and stepped closer. "We contain, we delay, we buy time—that's our job, Initiate, and you'd better get used to it fast." He tapped the datapad, adding, "Finish reading, then rest—you'll need every ounce of strength for what's coming."
Back in her quarters, Jessa sat on her bunk, the datapad glowing faint in the dim light, its screen casting shadows that danced across the gray walls like specters waiting to strike. She scrolled through the briefing again, the words about the Nihl-verse sinking deeper, each line a weight that made her chest tighten, the whisper growing louder with every redacted sentence. The Veil's hum pulsed through the walls, a mournful note that seemed to carry the same silence the document described, a silence that could swallow everything.
She set the datapad down, her hands shaking, and pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to block out the whisper, to block out the fear that gnawed at her like a living thing. "Watch… me…" it hissed, sharper now, and she jolted upright, her heart racing, her frost-burn flaring as if the Watcher's hand still lingered on her skin. But she forced herself to breathe, slow and deep, Marcus's words echoing in her mind—focus on what's next, one mission at a time.
Jessa stood, pacing the small room, her boots scuffing the floor, the hum of the walls a steady rhythm that grounded her, pulling her back from the edge. She glanced at the datapad, its screen dark now, and made a choice—she'd fight, she'd train, she'd face whatever broke through the Veil, no matter how dark it got. The whisper lingered, a shadow at the edge of her mind, but she wouldn't let it win—not today.