The alley still reeked of scorched brick and ozone when Julius and Xavier finally caught up, skidding to a stop behind me.
"Quill!" Julius wheezed, hands on his knees. "Where the hell have you—where's Janet?"
I didn't answer. My eyes were locked on the tear in reality hanging three meters ahead: a shrinking oval of violet light, edges flickering like bad neon. It was closing, but not fast enough.
"It's still open," I muttered. "I can make it."
"Quill, wait—" they shouted together.
Too late. I sprinted and launched myself through the rift.
The world inverted in a heartbeat. London vanished. Color and gravity shredded around me as I tumbled through a tunnel of floating crystal shards—each one reflecting impossible geometries, cities that never existed, skies bleeding into oceans. My stomach lurched.
This is the space between worlds.
The thought barely formed before the shards dissolved and I was suddenly weightless, plummeting through the open sky.
Below me stretched a nightmare continent: rivers of molten gold and crimson snaking between forests of razor-sharp obsidian spires. Heat rose in shimmering waves, stinging my eyes and lungs even from this height.
I screamed, arms windmilling uselessly. No parachute, no wings, no second chances.
Then a massive hand—translucent purple, veined with black lightning—materialised beneath me and closed around my body like a cage of warm glass. The descent slowed to a gentle drift.
I landed on cracked black stone, knees buckling. The hand faded into wisps of violet smoke.
"Thanks…" I managed, voice hoarse.
The figure who stepped forward was maybe twenty, lean, dark-haired, eyes the color of storm clouds. He wore a high-collared coat that looked scorched at the edges, as though fire had tried and failed to claim it.
"You're welcome," he said coolly. "Most people who fall through rifts don't get a second chance. Name?"
"Quill. Quill Sparrow." I pushed myself upright, legs still trembling. "You?"
"Noah Obsidian." He studied me like I was a puzzle with missing pieces. "You saw the hand."
"Yeah. Hard to miss something the size of a truck grabbing you mid-air."
His expression sharpened. "You saw my Relic. That's not normal for outsiders." He took a single step closer. "What are you?"
"I'm just a guy who jumped through a portal looking for his friend. What the hell is a Relic?"
Noah's gaze darkened. Without warning, thin chains of glossy black stone erupted from the ground, snapping around my wrists and ankles. They were cold, unyielding, humming with faint purple light.
"Hey—!" I yanked at them. Nothing budged.
"Obsidian's Wrath doesn't yield to strangers," he said flatly. "You came from the same rift Janet Christopher used. You're connected to her."
My blood went cold at the name. "You know Janet?"
"I know what she did." Noah's voice dropped, edged with something raw. "She killed our guardian. She murdered Lord Vincent's daughter—his only child. In cold blood."
The words landed like a fist to the chest.
"You're lying." My voice cracked. "Janet wouldn't—she's not a killer. She's the reason I'm even here!"
Noah didn't flinch. "Deny it all you want. The evidence doesn't care about your friendship." Purple energy began coiling around his right hand, condensing into a sleek, needle-sharp projectile that hovered above his palm. "Lord Vincent wants every trace of her allies erased. Consider this a mercy—I'll make it quick."
The air crackled. Heat prickled my skin as the bullet spun faster.
"Wait—!" I strained against the chains, heart slamming against my ribs. "Listen to me! I don't know what happened, but Janet didn't do this! Someone's setting her up—I can prove it if you just—"
Noah tilted his head, eyes narrowing. The bullet steadied, aimed directly at my chest.
"Obsidian's Bullet."
Time stretched.
Then everything went white.