Cassidy sat on the floor of her lab with her knees pulled tight to her chest, back pressed against the cool steel of the workbench as if it might anchor her to the present.
Above her, her gauntlet lay disassembled.
Panels peeled away.
Wiring exposed.
Crystalline coils left unsoldered where her hands had stopped cooperating.
The Mark of Virel pulsed at her wrist.
Sky-blue light.
Just ahead of her heartbeat.
Too fast.
"Okay," she muttered. "Okay. Quiet is good. Quiet is—why is quiet bad? Shut up, brain."
The Mark flared sharply.
Then dimmed.
Cassidy stared at it, breathing shallow.
"Hey," she said softly. "That wasn't me. I'm past this. You know I am."
The world folded inward.
The lab vanished.
Cassidy stood in the ruins of HQ.
Not shattered by battle—
emptied.
Walls split open like ribs. Consoles fused into the floor. The air tasted burned and wrong. She walked slowly through it, boots crunching on glass and ash that had once been something important.
Her own voice echoed ahead of her.
"Why…?"
She turned.
Jax lay against a collapsed command rail, armor torn, eyes open and empty. Thane was nearby—or what remained of him—bent at an angle no living body should hold.
Further in—
Weaver.
Burned.
Not struck.
Consumed.
At the center of the room stood Rose.
Frozen.
Not metaphorically.
Encased in frost so dense it swallowed the light, her face visible beneath it—conscious, terrified, unable to move.
Then the light came.
White.
Blinding.
Familiar.
Overload.
Cassidy turned.
Allium stood there.
Not raging.
Not screaming.
Focused.
His gaze locked onto her with something colder than anger.
Intent.
She felt herself fall.
"Why…?" she heard herself whisper as he moved.
Cassidy screamed—
—and gasped back into the lab, pain snapping through her wrist as the Mark burned hot, not empowering her but warning her.
"Oh shit," she breathed.
She didn't analyze.
She didn't question.
She slammed her gauntlet onto her arm, half-assembled, and ran.
⸻
The corridors were wrong.
People moved too fast or not at all. Conversations died mid-sentence. A technician shoved past someone, then froze, apologizing with shaking hands like he didn't understand why he'd done it.
Cassidy spotted Thane near an intersection.
"Thane!" she snapped. "We need to get to Jax now."
He blinked at her, slow.
"What—why?"
She grabbed his hand and pulled.
"No time, dude, come on."
He resisted.
"Cassidy," he said, confused, voice too loud, "what are you doing?"
She stopped and really looked at him.
His pupils didn't match.
His jaw clenched, then unclenched.
Sweat slicked his hairline despite the cool air.
"Hey," she said sharply. "Thane. Are you drunk?"
His brow furrowed.
Then he slammed his head into the wall.
Hard.
The impact rang down the corridor.
"THANE!" Cassidy shouted, catching him as he staggered.
He pressed a hand to his forehead, breathing fast.
"It's all messed up," he said hoarsely, pointing at his head. "I can't—things don't line up."
Cassidy swallowed the spike of panic and hauled him upright.
"What is happening?" she whispered.
As they moved, she noticed more.
Raised voices.
Hands clenching and unclenching.
People standing too close—or flinching when brushed.
Not possessed.
Triggered.
They reached Jax's office. Cassidy shoved the door open.
Jax turned from the console.
"Cassidy? What's wrong—"
He stopped himself.
Jaw tightening.
Words caught and redirected.
Cassidy raised an eyebrow.
"Oh shit," she muttered. "Not you too."
Jax didn't argue.
He turned the console toward her.
A waveform pulsed faintly across the display—low, continuous, barely above background noise.
"This has to be Khelos," he said. "It's not how he used to operate, but something isn't right."
Cassidy leaned in, scanning it.
"If Varos can change," she said slowly, "why wouldn't he? He was different last time too."
The door slid open again.
Weaver entered—and stopped.
He took in the room.
Jax, eyes shadowed, restraint stretched thin.
Cassidy, wired and pale.
Thane, dazed, blood threading through his hair.
"…Oh dear," Weaver said.
Cassidy didn't soften it.
"Weaver," she said. "I had a vision. Allium destroys HQ."
The room went still.
"What did you see?" Weaver asked.
She told him.
The fire.
The frost.
The silence.
The intent.
By the time she finished, Weaver looked like gravity had increased.
"This isn't fate," Cassidy said. "It's a warning. We can change this."
Weaver nodded once—but his eyes had gone distant.
"The Temple of Stillness," he said slowly. "Or what remains of it."
Cassidy frowned. "You think he's there?"
"No," Weaver replied. His voice was quiet now. "I think he never left."
The words landed heavy.
"When Overload erupted," Weaver continued, "we assumed he fled. That he retreated."
He shook his head.
"I need to know if he was watching the entire time."
The door behind them opened again.
"Not without this."
Nina stood there with Rose beside her.
Rose was shivering—not violently, but constantly, frost ghosting beneath her boots.
Nina held out a compact signal amplifier.
"I detected something in the waveforms," she said. "Extremely subtle. If you thread, you'll miss it. If it's him… this will turn red."
Weaver accepted it.
"I understand."
He turned to Rose.
"Stay warm," he said quietly.
Then to Cassidy.
"If your Mark warns you again—evacuate. Don't hesitate."
Cassidy watched him leave, heart pounding.
"This isn't cool," she muttered.
Outside, the glassed mountain waited.
And somewhere between pressure and