Night had fallen, but the world was far from asleep.
The campfire flickered in Valerian's periphery, but his attention remained fixed on the stars—new constellations that hadn't existed before the recursion collapsed. Some pulsed red, others blue, like celestial veins pumping possibility into the sky. The night breathed different now. Time didn't feel linear anymore—it pulsed like a living heart.
He could feel it. Not just a presence—but a wrongness approaching.
"...They're coming," he murmured, rising from the rock he sat on.
Selene looked up from her spell book, the runes shifting into defensive sigils. "You sense it too?"
Lira stopped sharpening her blade. "I never stopped."
Kael, chewing on a half-burnt leg of some mutated creature he'd roasted, grunted. "Tell me it's not another god-level construct. I need one damn hour without risking my soul."
