The world bent sideways.
One moment, the safehouse was four walls and a rusted door. The next, its boundaries collapsed like brittle paper, folding inward and outward at once. The floor heaved, tilting as though gravity had grown drunk. Shards of light ripped through the plaster, splitting into jagged windows that revealed impossible landscapes beyond—storming deserts, black oceans, skyfields lit with two suns.
Keller slammed into a wall, only for the wall to ripple like water, spitting him back to the floor. "What the—hell is this?" His pistol skittered out of reach before he snatched it back, his knuckles white.
Hwan grabbed at the collapsing table, anchoring himself as the floor splintered into slices that no longer agreed on which direction was down. "This isn't a room anymore," he grunted. "It's a blender."
