The portal spat them out in a violent crackle of crimson and pink, its edges snapping shut behind them with the hiss of torn glass. Grant steadied Jazmine as they stumbled forward, their boots striking the polished stone of the Amper school's great hall.
The chamber was alive with anxious voices, rows of students gathered in uneasy clusters beneath the vaulted ceiling. At the dais, John Charleston stood tall, his voice carrying over the murmurs.
"We must be ready," John declared, hands braced against the edge of the podium. "An attack is not only possible—it is imminent. Every defense we've built, every bond we've forged, will be tested in the coming days. None of you may falter."
The atmosphere was heavy, brittle with dread.
Then, as the crowd turned at the sound of the portal's collapse, silence crashed through the room like a hammer. Dozens of eyes widened. Gasps rippled outward as students recognized the girl at Grant's side.
"Jazmine…" someone whispered.
"She was gone—she vanished!" another voice cried, disbelief cutting through the hush.
Jazmine's breath hitched. She shrank under the weight of their stares, pink-tipped hair catching the glow of the torches along the walls. It wasn't just her reappearance—it was the uncanny way she seemed tethered to Grant, their entrance marked by the same unnatural light.
From the front row, Aldus Fel rose sharply to his feet, his lined face shadowed with unease. His piercing gaze locked on Jazmine. "The girl returns…" His voice was calm, but beneath it ran a thread of foreboding.
Grant ignored the ripple of whispers and strode into the open, cutting through the tension with his voice. "Where's Brakkon?"
John Charleston's stern composure never wavered, but his tone was measured, wary of the urgency in Grant's demand. "Brakkon is not here. He was dispatched this morning—an assignment outside the city. He will return when his task is complete."
Grant's jaw tightened, the weight of inevitability settling over him like chains. His eyes flicked to the floor, then up again, hardened with grim resolve.
"It's starting," he tought. "Everything's accelerating—just like I feared."
The tension in the hall hadn't settled before another ripple passed through it. Jazmine clutched her head, eyes locking on Grant.
"You think Brakkon's going to die," she blurted, her voice trembling.
Grant froze mid-step. The words weren't spoken aloud in his mind—yet she had repeated them, syllable for syllable.
Murmurs swelled through the hall like rising stormwater. Students shifted uneasily, some frightened, some suspicious. Aldus Fel's brow furrowed deep, his gaze narrowing on Jazmine as though studying a dangerous omen.
Grant's voice cut low, shaken but sharp. "You're in my head…"
Before anyone could react, a sound ripped through the space—a shriek so high, so sharp it seemed to bypass the ears entirely and strike straight at the skull.
Only two bodies collapsed under its weight: Grant and Jazmine. Both dropped to their knees, hands clutching their temples, faces twisted in pain. The rest of the room looked on in confusion, hearing nothing.
Anna darted forward, panic blazing in her eyes. "Jazmine!" She reached out, grabbing the girl's arm.
The instant skin met skin, the world detonated. A shockwave burst outward, flinging Anna across the hall. She slammed into the marble tiles with a cry, arcs of pink and crimson lightning crackling in the air where their contact had been.
Gasps and shouts rang out as students scrambled back, shielding themselves. Sparks skittered across the floor like live wires before fading into smoke.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the screech vanished. Silence rushed back, heavy and suffocating.
Grant dragged in a ragged breath, forcing his body upright despite the tremors racking his muscles. His eyes burned with grim fire as he steadied Jazmine against him.
He looked straight at John Charleston, voice flat and final.
"The universe is in danger."
Grant didn't wait for arguments or permission. The crimson glow of the Ring of Transit seared brighter, casting long shadows across the great hall.
In a blink, Brakkon appeared in the center of the chamber, shoulders tense, blades half-drawn, eyes burning with confusion.
"What the hell—" he barked, scanning the room. "How did I get here?"
Gasps rippled through the students. Even John froze, lips parting as he realized Grant had just pulled Brakkon across miles—without warning, without strain.
Grant raised his hand again. This time, the air itself seemed to crack. From the floor erupted a massive aperture, a circle of molten crimson that didn't wait to be stepped into. It surged forward like a living tide, sweeping across the marble and pulling everything it touched into its grasp.
John, Brakkon, and the Ampers—Astegger, Anna, Acuent, Aldus, Slha, Nullis, and Xylo—were swallowed whole before they could resist. Students screamed and scattered as the crimson tide consumed their leaders.
Then the hall was empty.
And the Ampers reemerged somewhere no one had ever stood.
The palace stretched around them—Grant's radiant sanctum beyond universes. The floor was polished crystal that mirrored the stars beneath their feet, while above, constellations twisted in living patterns, whole galaxies glimmering like embers. At the chamber's center, the Zenith Watch turned in solemn orbit, its wheels of light grinding in silence.
The Ampers staggered, their awe breaking through suspicion. Aldus whispered something in an old tongue, voice shaking. Acuent pressed a hand to his chest, muttering, "By the Void…" Slha's eyes widened, tears pooling as she whispered, "It's real."
Xylo tilted his head, his usual smirk faltering. "This isn't any projection. This… this is outside everything."
John stepped forward, jaw tight as his gaze swept the impossible sprawl. He didn't look at the stars or the Watch. He looked at Grant.
"What have you done?"
John pressed Grant for answers, Brakkon snarled demands, Aldus muttered prophecies, and Anna's eyes burned with betrayal. The air itself thickened with argument, distrust swirling like smoke.
Then—Jazmine stiffened.
Her eyes glazed with a radiant sheen, pupils swallowed by a faint pink light. When she spoke, her voice was layered—hers, but not hers, carrying tones that reverberated against the crystal walls.
"Vitam meam tuendam dabo.
Sum immortalis, sum coeleste.
Occidam omnes, qui minantur innocentes, impotentes.
SUM PRAESID."
The words thundered in flawless Latin, rolling across the sanctum. Each syllable struck like a hammer against the Zenith Watch, which flared in response—its concentric wheels glowing crimson and pink, aligning for the first time since the chamber was built.
The arguments died. The Ampers stood frozen, silence pressing down like a storm's eye. Even Grant's breath caught, recognition clawing at the edge of memory.
Jazmine blinked, stumbling as the light faded from her eyes. She looked at them all, terrified. "I—I didn't mean to. The words… they just came. Like they were already inside me."
The Zenith Watch pulsed one last time, then stilled, its glow dimming back into patient silence.
And in that stillness, the Ampers understood: whatever Jazmine was becoming, it reached deeper than anything Grant had ever claimed to be.
The palace was still ringing from the echo of Jazmine's oath when Grant finally raised his hand, silencing the chaos. His crimson aura burned faintly, drawing every gaze.
"You want answers," he said, voice steady, cutting through the tension. "This is my sanctum. I call it the Palace Beyond. For three years, I've lived here—above every Earth, watching every reality turn. This is where I became Quish. This is where I've seen the end."
He gestured to the vast table of spheres overhead. The glowing Earths orbited like patient lanterns, a tapestry of possibility and fate.
John Charleston's jaw tightened. "You expect us to believe you abandoned our world to sit on a throne of stars?"
Grant's eyes hardened. "Believe what you will. But denial won't stop what's coming."
Before the argument could ignite again, Anna's voice cracked through the silence. She stepped forward, her face pale, her hands trembling as if she were already mourning. "He's right. We're all on a clock. Two months from now, we're destined to die. Veynar, Vorath, and Gravax… they'll trick us into a fight we cannot win."
Her words splintered the Ampers' resolve—seeds of dread sprouting in their eyes.
But Jazmine gasped suddenly, clutching her chest as her pupils flared with pink light. She whispered, voice resonant and strange: "Not two months."
The room stiffened. All eyes turned to her.
"One day."
Grant's head snapped toward her, shock flashing for an instant before his composure locked back into place. "What did you just say?"
Jazmine's hand lifted toward the Watch itself. The spheres shifted at her command, orbiting faster, aligning like cogs in a great clock. Their Earth glowed faintly—its light smothered by three vast shadows looming above it.
Gravax.
Veynar.
Vorath.
The shadows bent across the chamber like predators circling prey.
The Ampers froze, horror rippling through them. Even Brakkon's face, usually carved from stone, cracked with unease.
Grant strode to the throne at the Watch's heart, pulling Jazmine with him. His crimson energy wrapped around them both as he touched her temple, speaking directly into her mind.
You feel it, don't you? The resonance. It's because of what you are.
Her breath hitched. What am I?
Celestius's daughter. His spark runs through you. You carry his gene—the one that allows you to bridge creation itself. By speaking that oath, you became it. Protector and Maker. The first of your kind.
The weight of his revelation shook her. Her hands trembled, yet her gaze stayed locked on his. "So… I'm supposed to save everything?"
Grant's voice steadied, softer now but threaded with fire. Not alone. I'll train you. We'll stand together. But they won't believe unless we make them. And we don't have months anymore—we have a single day.
Her chest rose and fell, fear twisting with something sharper—something new. She stepped closer, her pink glow mingling with his crimson light.
"Then tell me what to do," Jazmine whispered, voice trembling but firm. "Whatever you say—whatever it takes. I'll follow you."
For a moment, Grant saw her not as the terrified girl who stumbled into his Watch, but as the flame the multiverse had chosen—burning with dangerous loyalty, and a devotion that was no longer just destiny.
The throne pulsed beneath them, alive with the bond neither could deny.
And the Ampers, watching in silence, knew the countdown had begun.