The trees thinned as the sun dipped low, casting golden threads through tangled branches. Luma pressed forward, boots crunching over pine needles, her gauntlet humming faintly like it was nervous. ion walked beside her, unusually quiet, scanning the horizon with a creased brow.
They had just left the tampered village where even laughter echoed wrong. Now, the world felt stretched thin—like the skin of reality was pulled taut, about to snap.
"You're doing the brooding silence thing again," Luma said, raising an eyebrow. "That usually means something bad is up ahead."
Ion didn't look at her. "Because something is."
A faint vibration tickled the soles of their feet.
They emerged into a cratered clearing surrounded by crooked rock spires, half-eaten by moss and time. In the center stood a structure half-buried in earth and ivy—round, metallic, and humming softly like it remembered its purpose.
"This isn't on any Spire map," Ion said, voice barely above a whisper.
Luma stepped closer, then squinted. The outer hull bore faint markings—etched equations, layered diagrams, fragments of notes scrawled in Kaelen's looping script.
"Wait… this is one of Kaelen's research outposts," Ion murmured. "Early prototype labs. Most were dismantled decades ago."
Luma brushed off a patch of grime and grinned. "So… we're trespassing on a genius' science fair project. What could go wrong?"
They entered through a partially collapsed hatch. Inside, low blue lights flickered along the walls. Machines sat dormant—rows of copper-tube resonators, broken holopanels, and what looked suspiciously like a vending machine… filled with labeled coils instead of snacks.
"Okay, not snacks," Luma muttered.
Ion knelt beside a console and tapped a power node. The room groaned, then whirred to life. A faded hologram of Kaelen flickered into view—grainy and half-glitched.
"Project Entropy Engine—phase oscillation tests continuing. Temporal drift increasing. Recommend containment protocols."
Luma's brow furrowed. "Did he just say 'temporal drift'? As in time going wibbly?"
"Yes," Ion said gravely. "And judging by the residue in the coils, it's happening again."
Suddenly, a hidden panel clicked open behind them. Inside was a locked crystal case. Within it, humming like it was alive, floated a strange device—metal rings surrounding a pulsing core of bluish energy. Beneath it, a tag read: Entropy Engine – Prototype Alpha.
Luma leaned in. "So… this is what Saren's building?"
Ion nodded slowly. "But theirs is far more advanced now."
He looked at her, face drawn. "It disturbs resonance fields. Causes wave patterns—light, sound, even neural impulses—to fall out of harmony. Over time, it makes reality… fray."
"So how do we stop it?" Luma asked.
Ion walked to a rusted cabinet, pulled out a slim leather-bound book, and flipped it open. "Kaelen left notes. Look—'resonance disruption counteracts entropy instability. Matching frequencies. Like tuning forks.'"
Luma snapped her fingers. "We find the right frequency… we can cancel out their interference. Like noise-canceling headphones. Just for evil physics."
"Exactly."
They worked late into the night, decoding notes and running simulations on Ion's portable tablet. Luma sprawled across a crate, hair mussed, occasionally sipping from a juice pouch she'd insisted on bringing.
"This might be the most science I've done while lying down," she said.
Ion, without looking up: "You say that like it's not most people's dream."
Just before midnight, a sharp chime sounded from the crystal communicator.
Luma tapped it.
A cryptic message played across the screen:
"THE FRACTURED VEIL APPROACHES. LAWS BEND. FIND THE SOURCE WHERE WAVES GO TO DIE."
Luma stared. "That's not ominous at all."
Ion whispered, "The Fractured Veil… It's real. And if entropy is bleeding through it, we're running out of time."
Luma looked toward the stars, her gauntlet humming louder now, as if it had heard the message too.
"We'll find it," she said. "And we'll rewrite the rules if we have to."