POV: Meher
Falling without moving is the most terrifying sensation in existence.
My body is still in the Vault.
But my mind—my memories—my identity—
are being dragged through versions of reality that should never touch.
The world around me fractures like safety glass under pressure.
One second — darkness.
The next — a street full of neon lights and rain, where holograms scream BUY MORE and I'm wearing a leather jacket and holding a gun like I've always known how.
Then— blink.
I'm in a classroom.
Sunlight. Chalk dust. A younger version of me staring out the window wishing life was more interesting.
Another blink.
A wedding.
I don't know who I'm marrying — but I'm laughing like I actually believe the future is safe.
Then—everything flickers again.
This time it hurts.
A blinding jolt behind the eyes — like my brain is being rewritten without anesthesia.
Someone screams.
Maybe it's me.
Maybe it's the universe.
Hard to tell at this point.
Reality stabilizes.
At least… I think it does.
I'm standing in a version of the Vault — but it's not the same.
The walls are covered in symbols and black circuitry veins — alive, moving, reacting like they're breathing.
My heart slams against my ribs.
"Kiyan?"
No answer.
"Avni?"
Silence.
"Nivaan—?"
Nothing.
Panic crawls up my throat like fire.
I spin — searching— and nearly collapse from relief.
Someone stands across the room.
A silhouette. Familiar. Solid.
"Aarav?"
He turns slowly — and I freeze.
It's him.
But not him.
His eyes glow with shifting data like galaxies embedded in code.
His voice is layered — one version soft, one ancient, one almost mechanical.
"Meher," he says, "you're here."
Not a question.
A confirmation.
Which means he expected this.
I swallow hard, stepping closer.
"What happened?"
Aarav exhales — and the room shifts with it.
"The system didn't collapse," he says."It multiplied."
My stomach drops.
"How many timelines?"
His lips twitch — not a smile. Something darker.
"Enough to rewrite existence."
I run a hand through my hair, because if I don't move, I'll break.
"So where are the others?"
His gaze flickers — and suddenly images flash in the air like projection glitches:
Kiyan in a ruined city, leading terrified survivors like a soldier who never asked for command.
Avni inside a pristine lab wearing a white coat, rewriting code like she's the god of logic.
Zareen walking through a temple lit with flame and memory, symbols forming under her feet with every step.
Nivaan standing in a throne room of dark machines, circuitry carved into his skin like a crown.
Each in a different world.
Each part of the system.
But not together.
I whisper, voice cracking:
"We're split."
Aarav nods.
"The Splinter is complete."
My chest tightens.
"So how do we undo it?"
Aarav looks at the Core — now levitating, broken into fragments orbiting him like moons.
"We don't undo it."
My blood runs cold.
"What do you mean?"
Aarav steps forward — close enough that I can feel the hum of the system under his skin.
"This wasn't an accident," he says softly.
"It was evolution."
My heart stops. Just for a second.
"You planned this?"
His expression is unreadable.
"No. But the system did."
I back away.
Because suddenly, I'm not sure if the boy who died twice came back…
…or something else wearing his memory did.
"Aarav," I whisper, "are you still you?"
He blinks — slow, inhuman.
"Define 'me.'"
My breath stutters.
Because the way he says it?
Sounds like the Mirror talking.
Not the boy.
Not the friend.
Not the one who hugged Avni like she was home.
No — this version feels inevitable.
Like a prophecy with bones.
I force the words out:
"What happens now?"
Aarav extends his hand — and the room ripples again.
"We find the others," he says.
"And then?"
His eyes lock onto mine — and for a heartbeat, I swear I see every timeline collapse into a single truth.
"Then," he murmurs,
"we decide which reality deserves to survive."
The Vault trembles as the world splits again — but this time, I don't fall.
This time, I move with it.