The fracture screamed like a wound torn open across reality, and Keller did not hesitate. He threw himself in first, body twisting into the darkness, gun clutched uselessly against his chest.
Hwan followed, teeth gritted, palms slick with sweat. Every instinct screamed at him to stop, to cling to the safety of the ruined plaza above, but he leapt anyway. He couldn't abandon Lin—not when the boy's breath had carried the weight of everything they had endured together.
The descent was unlike falling. It was like sinking, dragged through layers of black water that were not water at all. Every heartbeat was amplified, every exhale fractured into echoes. Keller's training told him to control his breathing, but even that betrayed him here; every breath seemed stolen, as though the abyss had to approve each inhale.
Then—impact.
