Earth-3149 was chaos.
Kael stumbled to his feet, coughing as the red fog clawed at his lungs. The air tasted like rust and ozone. Skyscrapers loomed like twisted spires, their windows pulsing with eerie crimson light. Sirens screamed in the distance, warping into low, guttural moans as they passed through sound distortions.
Reeva scanned the sky. "That rift... it's not natural."
"It's not just a rift," Elara said, her tone cold. "It's a mouth. And something on the other side is trying to come through."
Kael looked up, and for a split second, he saw it.
A massive silhouette beyond the clouds. A figure draped in robes of voidlight, tendrils of gravity coiling from its form.
The Architect.
He was here. Or close.
Reeva activated a signal dampener. "We need to find the Anchor Point. If we can link the Keystone to it, we can stabilize this world—and sever the Architect's connection."
"But we don't even know what the Anchor looks like," Kael said.
"We'll know when we see it," Elara replied. "It's not an object. It's a concept made real. A convergence of fate-lines."
Kael frowned. "So... what, like destiny?"
"Exactly."
The three moved cautiously through the deserted city. Shadows darted between alleys—survivors? Phantoms? It was impossible to tell. The red fog distorted perception. At one point, Kael thought he saw himself standing in a broken storefront, staring back at him before vanishing into static.
Eventually, they reached a public square. Broken statues lay strewn around a shattered fountain. In the center stood a woman, unmoving, arms outstretched, her skin covered in glowing fractal scars.
Kael froze.
"Elara... is that her?"
Elara stepped forward slowly. "It's not her... it's the Anchor."
The woman wasn't real—at least not anymore. She was a construct, a convergence point made flesh. Dozens of timelines merged in her form. She flickered between faces, races, ages—she was all possibilities, and none.
Kael approached.
The Keystone buzzed violently.
Suddenly, the red fog screamed.
Machines burst from the streets—dozens of them. Not scouts this time. Enforcers. Sleek, obsidian constructs with glowing sigils across their chests.
"They're here for the Anchor," Reeva shouted, opening fire.
Kael reached the statue-woman and pressed the Keystone against her palm. Light exploded outward, freezing the machines mid-charge. For a moment, time itself paused.
And Kael saw everything.
Every path.
Every choice.
Every version of this world where it burned... or didn't.
He understood now.
The Anchor wasn't just a place.
It was hope.
He poured the Keystone's power into the convergence point.
The red fog recoiled. The rift above began to crack and seal. The machines screamed in reverse as time rewound them into nothing.
When the light faded, the city was still.
The Anchor had stabilized.
Elara stared at Kael. "You channeled it."
"I didn't," Kael said, trembling. "It chose me."
Above, the rift sealed shut.
But before it vanished entirely, a final whisper echoed through the sky.
"You delay the inevitable, Driftbearer. I see you now."
Kael looked up, heart pounding.
The Architect knew his name.
And the chase had become a hunt.