By evening, the trees began to thin.
The trio emerged from the dense forest into a wide valley where nature and ruin merged—collapsed buildings swallowed by moss, twisted signs with letters half-worn away, and fragments of glass glittering like forgotten stars. Overhead, the sky turned gold and violet, the sun sliding behind a veil of Rift-born clouds.
They reached the safehouse just before nightfall. It was an old ranger station, built of stone and wood, perched on a small hill overlooking the valley.
"I've used this place before," Nyra said, scanning the perimeter. "Sealed, stable, no signs of corruption."
Once inside, she set to work barricading the windows while Elara gathered kindling for a fire. Nuel collapsed onto an old bench by the wall, every limb aching. The events of the day—the vision, the battle, the strange intuition—kept replaying in his head like a song he couldn't turn off.
The bracelet was quiet now. But he could still feel it humming under his skin.
Elara joined him, her voice low. "You should rest."
He glanced at her. "You don't think I'm… changing?"
She tilted her head, thinking. "I think you already were changing. The Rift just revealed it sooner."
"Not exactly comforting."
"I didn't say it was."
He cracked a faint smile. "You always this cryptic?"
"Only when I like someone," she said, deadpan—then blinked, surprised by her own words.
Nuel looked at her. "Did you just—?"
"Nope," she said quickly, rising to help Nyra.
But Nuel caught the hint of red on her cheeks.
That night, while the others slept, Nuel sat outside the safehouse beneath a sky riddled with fractured stars. The world had never looked so shattered—and yet, so quiet. Like it was holding its breath.
He turned the bracelet in his fingers. "What are you?"
A soft voice answered, not from the bracelet, but from the dark.
"You're not supposed to have that."
Nuel spun to his feet, crowbar raised.
A figure stood ten feet away, hands raised in peace. A young man—mid-twenties maybe—with light brown skin, short dark curls, and a dark, weathered cloak. He had no visible weapons, but something about the way he stood—composed, calculating—put Nuel on edge.
"Who are you?" Nuel demanded.
The stranger smiled faintly. "A traveler. Like you. But unlike you, I don't go poking around in ancient ruins that were sealed for a reason."
Nuel didn't lower the crowbar. "Start talking."
The man took a slow step forward. "My name is Kael. I've been watching the Rifts for years. Your beacon? It sent up a flare so bright I nearly fell off a cliff trying to get here."
"You were tracking me?"
"No. I was tracking it." Kael nodded toward the bracelet. "That thing wasn't meant to activate yet. And if it has, the timelines are already cracking."
"Timelines?" Nuel echoed, heart pounding.
Kael crouched and drew a series of intersecting circles in the dirt. "The world fractured in more ways than one. Some Rifts tear space. Others tear time. And then there are those rare ones that tear fate. Yours is the last kind."
"I didn't ask for this."
"No one does," Kael replied, meeting his eyes. "But some are born near it. Some are drawn to it. And some… are made for it."
Nuel swallowed. "So what does that make me?"
Kael's answer was quiet. "Someone who's either going to save what's left of this world… or break it completely."
By dawn, Kael had been reluctantly invited inside.
Nyra didn't like him. Elara remained cautiously curious. Nuel? He wasn't sure yet.
Kael revealed little more about himself, but he knew things—about Rift anomalies, energy patterns, and strange fluctuations in the Veil between worlds. He spoke of visions, ghosts of alternate paths, and relics tied to ancient guardians.
But what caught Nuel's attention most was when Kael mentioned Fatekeepers—people who had once used Rift-forged relics to protect the balance between realms.
"They were destroyed during the First Fracture," Kael said. "Or so we thought."
"You think I'm one of them?" Nuel asked.
Kael shrugged. "Or something newer. A successor. A mistake. Hard to say."
Nyra leaned forward. "What do you want with him?"
Kael met her stare without flinching. "I want to make sure he survives long enough to understand what he is. Because if he dies now… this world may lose its last chance to heal."
The room fell silent.
Outside, the wind howled softly through broken branches.
Elara finally spoke. "Then we move at first light."
"Where to?" Nuel asked.
She unfolded the old map again, eyes scanning its faded lines. "Northwest. Toward the city ruins. If the timelines are breaking, there may be echoes of the past still trapped there."
Kael nodded. "Good choice. But it'll be dangerous. The city was hit hard during the last Rift surge. Shadows linger there."
"Let them linger," Nuel said quietly. "I'm done running."
Kael smiled again. "Then it begins."