The silence after the storm was deafening.
Kael sat on a stone bench in the now-stabilized city square. The Anchor had returned to a dormant state—just a woman-shaped statue once again—but Kael could still feel the hum of fate echoing in his bones.
He didn't just touch the Anchor.
He merged with it.
Elara handed him a drink from their emergency rations. "You okay?"
Kael nodded slowly. "I think I saw everything. Every path. Every version of this place. Of me."
Reeva joined them, still keeping a cautious eye on the skyline. "We've delayed the Architect, but not stopped him. If he knows you now... he'll send more than machines next time."
Kael clutched the Keystone. "What is the Driftbearer, really? Everyone keeps talking like I'm supposed to be some cosmic messiah, but I don't know what I'm doing."
Elara knelt beside him, her tone quieter than usual. "Because no one's ever survived long enough to figure it out."
Kael looked up. "What?"
She tapped her gauntlet, projecting a data cluster from her archives. Dozens of red dossiers spun in a circle: all labeled DRIFTBEARER CANDIDATE. Each file marked with the same final note: TERMINATED.
"You weren't the first," she said. "There've been others. Across timelines. All chosen by their Keystones. All connected to Anchors. But every one of them... fell."
Reeva frowned. "Why show him this now?"
"Because he deserves to know what he's carrying," Elara said, locking eyes with Kael. "This isn't just about stabilizing worlds. The Driftbearer Protocol was created by the original Fracture Architects—back when they were trying to save the multiverse. Before the betrayal."
"Before the Architect," Kael said softly.
Elara nodded. "You were chosen not because you're strong, or smart, or special. You were chosen because your existence echoes. Your decisions create ripples through the lattice."
Reeva added, "In every timeline, there's a version of you that matters. And the Architect's afraid of that."
Kael stared at the data.
All the dead versions of him.
All the lost Anchors.
He clenched his fists. "Then I have to be the last one."
A ping interrupted them—Reeva's scanner lit up.
"Multiple rift signatures. One stabilized. It's... pulling us."
Elara stood. "Another Anchor?"
"No," Reeva said slowly. "It's not a destination. It's a summon."
Before anyone could react, the rift opened.
But instead of collapsing the environment, it reached out—a silver tendril of energy grabbed the trio and yanked them into the spiral.
Kael screamed.
Colors blurred.
Time cracked.
When they landed, it was in a place beyond imagination.
A dark chamber suspended between stars. Columns floated without support. Echoes of voices whispered in impossible languages.
And at the far end stood a council.
Six figures in cloaks of light and shadow.
One stepped forward. His voice echoed with multiversal weight.
"Driftbearer. Welcome. We are the Wardens of the Lattice."
Kael stood, stunned.
Elara muttered, "I thought they were a myth."
"No," the Warden said. "But you may soon wish we were."