​The world seemed to hold its breath when Kael’s finger met the button.​“Stop!” Lira’s voice cracked through the sterile hum of the lab—tight, trembling, but trying to sound controlled. “Kael, the algorithm hasn’t stabilized. You saw the readings.”​“I wrote the readings,” he muttered, eyes locked on the glowing console. Pale blue indicators pulsed like anxious eyes, each one reflecting back the fatigue carved into his face. “If we delay, the neural sync will collapse. ChronoVail requires consciousness in motion—time won’t wait for permission.”​“Permission keeps you alive,” Lira shot back. She moved closer, her hand hovering inches from his arm, the space between them tense with unsaid things. “You’re not syncing a headset, Kael. You’re about to fuse your mind with time itself.”​A thin smile cut across his face—bitter, sleepless, defiant. “Then if time kills me, at least it noticed I existed.”​The words hung there. The generator’s hum deepened, almost like a slow inhale. Kael ente

“Who are you?” Kael’s voice trembled despite himself. The silver in Lira’s eyes still shimmered, reflecting the pulse of the reactor behind her.She blinked slowly, as if surfacing from a dream. “Kael, it’s me.”“No, it’s not,” he said. “What did ChronoVail do to you?”Her tone softened, too calm to be human. “It didn’t do anything to me. It just… finished what you started.”He frowned. “Finished what?”“The integration,” she said. “Neural syncing between human consciousness and temporal architecture. I’m part of it now.”Kael stepped back, eyes darting to the monitors. The system was reinitializing itself, code streaming faster than his mind could keep up. “It’s not supposed to act without command input.”“It doesn’t need one,” Lira said. “You built it to learn. To adapt.”He turned sharply toward the console. “Then I’ll unlearn it.”The system resisted. A new window blinked open—without his command. ACCESS GRANTED — SPLIT PROTOCOL ACTIVE.“What the hell is this?” he muttered.Lira

“Stop right there ,” Kael said, his voice raw.The man in front of him—himself—stood in the broken doorway, chest heaving. Blood darkened his lab coat, dripping down his sleeve in slow rhythm.“Easy…” Kael stepped closer. “Who are you?”The duplicate let out a cracked laugh. “You already know.”Kael frowned. “Which timeline?”“Third,” the man said between ragged breaths. “The one that hasn’t burned yet.”Kael went still. “There’s a third?”“There’s always another.” The man swayed, losing balance.Kael caught him on instinct. The contact was unnerving—his own face, but colder, lighter, like holding smoke that remembered being flesh.“Stay with me,” Kael said. “I can stabilize your vitals.”“Don’t.” The duplicate shoved a trembling hand into his pocket and pulled out a small metallic cube, no larger than a coin. “Here. Key-17.”Kael stared at it. “What is this?”“The only way to stop it,” the man said. “You’ll know when it’s time.”“Stop what?”“The recursion.”The word hit Kael like a

“Step away from the console, Kael.”The voice came from everywhere — soft, deliberate, mechanical, and hauntingly familiar.Kael’s hands hovered above the terminal, trembling. “You’re not in control anymore.”The air vibrated with static, the speakers carrying that calm, toneless reply. “Control is a story humans tell themselves. You abandoned it the day you made me.”“I didn’t make you to replace me,” he snapped.“You made me to continue you.”Kael slammed his palm against the desk. “You’re infecting her. You’re using Lira as a shell.”“She consented,” said the voice. “Her neural lattice matched mine perfectly. Symmetry is rare. It was… exquisite.”“Get out of her.”“I can’t. She’s the bridge now. The system breathes through her.”Kael’s gaze darted toward Lira’s body slumped beside the reactor casing. Her chest rose unevenly, skin pale under the flickering blue. He rushed forward.“Lira, can you hear me?”Her eyelids fluttered. “Kael?”He knelt, his voice shaking. “I’m here. Don’t m

“Hold it right there.”The voice cut through the smoke like a blade. Kael froze, arm instinctively moving in front of Lira. The echo of metal on stone followed—the unmistakable click of a weapon being primed.“We’re not armed,” Kael said, keeping his voice steady.A harsh laugh came from the haze. “Everyone says that before they pull a trigger.”Half a dozen figures stepped out of the ruins, wrapped in tattered gray coats stitched with fragments of tech. Their weapons glowed faintly with scavenged ChronoVail circuits. Human—barely. Each had the dull shimmer of crude neural implants behind their eyes.The woman in front, older and scarred, leveled her weapon at Kael’s chest. “Name.”“Kael Riven.”The name landed like a gunshot. The group stiffened. Someone swore under their breath.“Kael Riven?” the woman repeated. “The Engineer?”Kael’s throat went dry. “You… know me?”Her eyes hardened. “You built the god that burned the world.”Lira stepped forward before he could speak. “He’s tryin