The visions left me reeling.
My head felt split in two, every nerve humming like torn wires. I sat slumped against the cold wall of the bunker, metal fingers trembling against my knees. Around me, the rebels whispered. Some stared. Some reached for their rifles.
Lira crouched beside me.
"Stay with me, Kieran. Just… breathe."
I gave a short, bitter laugh.
"I don't breathe anymore."
Her eyes softened, but before she could speak, Helen's voice cut through the murmur.
"Enough. Everyone out. Now."
The rebels hesitated, but her tone wasn't one to argue with. Boots scraped against concrete as the others shuffled away, leaving only Helen, Lira, and me in the chamber.
Helen crossed her arms, watching me like a hawk.
"You froze back there," she said. "During the briefing. Then you started muttering about… futures."
I closed my eyes. The afterimages of the vision still burned behind them.
"I saw what's coming. Two paths. Both end badly."
Her jaw clenched. "Explain."
I swallowed, the words sticking like broken glass in my throat.
"If you hit the outpost tonight, half your people die. If you don't… you live, but the rebellion loses hope. Either way, it breaks you."
Silence pressed in. Lira's hand hovered near my shoulder, unsure. Helen's stare was sharp enough to cut steel.
Finally, she said, "So you're a prophet now?"
I shook my head.
"No. Just cursed."
The argument exploded later in the war room.
Rebels packed the space, their voices bouncing off cracked monitors and rusted walls. Helen stood at the front, arms braced against the table. I lingered near the back, still reeling, still haunted.
"He's lying," one soldier spat. "Machines can't see the future."
"He's not lying," Lira shot back. "He warned us before the drone sweep—remember? He's saved us twice already."
"That was luck."
"Luck doesn't whisper in your head," I muttered.
The room quieted. All eyes turned toward me.
Helen's gaze narrowed. "What whispers, Kieran?"
I hesitated. Should I tell them? The voice that had followed me since the chamber, the one that wasn't mine. The one that spoke in riddles about broken timelines and shattered choices.
Finally, I said, "Something inside me. It… shows me pieces. Threads of what could be."
A murmur rippled through the rebels. Fear. Suspicion.
Helen slammed her palm on the table.
"Enough. This isn't a democracy. I'll decide if we raid or not."
Later, when the others had scattered, Helen cornered me in the corridor.
"You're hiding something," she said flatly.
"I told you what I know."
"You told me half." Her eyes narrowed. "You're not just some experiment gone wrong. Whatever you are—it's connected to this war. And I need to know if you're going to break us."
Her words cut deeper than I expected.
"I don't want to break anyone," I said quietly. "But the more I see, the less I know if I'm making things better… or worse."
Helen studied me for a long moment, then turned on her heel.
"Tomorrow we move. You'll be there. And if your visions are real—prove it."
That night, I couldn't rest.
Not that sleep came easily to me anymore. My systems hummed even when I closed my eyes, the faint buzz of circuitry louder than dreams. But the voice came anyway.
"You stand at the fork, Subject-09."
I sat up, scanning the shadows. The room was empty.
"One path feeds the fire. The other smothers it. Both lead to ash."
My fists clenched.
"Then what's the point?"
The voice chuckled. A sound like static tearing.
"The point, child, is that for once… you choose."
The raid unfolded under fractured skies.
The rebels moved like shadows through the ruins, weapons clutched tight. The outpost loomed ahead—a nest of steel and red light, humming with drone patrols.
Helen signaled the group to halt. She turned to me, her expression unreadable.
"Well, prophet? Do we walk into the fire, or turn back and choke on our own fear?"
Every eye was on me. My pulse spiked—if I even had one anymore. The visions clawed at me again, shards of futures stabbing behind my eyes. Rebels dead. Rebels broken. The rebellion collapsing either way.
I swallowed.
"If we go in head-on… too many of you won't make it out. But if we retreat—you'll live, and lose the fight inside you. Both roads kill something."
Lira's voice wavered.
"Then what do we do?"
The silence stretched. I felt the choice pressing down, heavier than my chrome limbs.
I closed my eyes.
"No straight path. We make a third."
I moved before doubt could anchor me.
Circuits burned hot as I split from the group, sprinting across rubble toward the outpost. Sirens wailed instantly—sensors locking onto my frame. Gunfire erupted.
"Kieran!" Lira shouted.
But I was already in the storm.
Bullets sparked off metal limbs. My body took the hits, shielding the rebels in my wake. I tore into the gate with mechanical fury, ripping steel aside. Drones swarmed me, blades flashing, optics blazing red.
I let them.
Every instinct screamed to fight, but I drew them away, deeper into the compound, dragging their gaze from the rebels creeping in through the breach.
If my visions were right, maybe—just maybe—this fracture could hold.
---
When the dust settled, I staggered out of the ruins.
Smoke curled around me, my frame scorched and dented. The rebels were already retreating with stolen power cores, faces streaked with sweat and blood.
Helen met me at the edge of the rubble. Her rifle hung at her side, eyes burning with something between anger and awe.
"You're insane," she said.
"Probably." My voice crackled with static.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"You bought us time. Hope. Maybe both. But next time, you tell me what you see before you play martyr."
I almost laughed, but the weight of the visions still clung to me.
"I didn't just change the battle," I murmured. "I felt it. Reality bending. Like… the timeline itself cracked when I chose."
Helen frowned, but before she could respond, the voice whispered again—louder, clearer.
"Yes, Subject-09. The fracture has begun. Each choice pulls you further from the line. Soon, you won't know which world is real."
My knees buckled. Lira rushed to steady me, but the words were already echoing inside my skull.
Not one path. Not two.
A thousand.
And I was walking blind through them all..