The kitchen was too quiet. It was the kind of silence that didn’t just mean a lack of noise; it meant a lack of *substance*. I stood over the sink, my hands trembling as I stared at the fading edges of my own skin. The static was winning."Faceslap of a disappearing act," I whispered, my voice sounding like dry parchment.I looked at the stove. I didn’t need a match. I didn't need a lighter. I was Elias Thorne. I had swallowed the Ninth Heaven and spat out the sun. I reached into my core, searching for that familiar, roaring furnace of violet entropy."Come on. Just a spark. Just one little audit of the laws of thermodynamics."I snapped my fingers.Nothing. Not even the smell of ozone."Elias? Are you still in there? The tea's going to get cold," Selene called from the porch."Just a second!" I yelled back.I closed my eyes, focusing every ounce of my will on the tip of my index finger. I visualized the fire. I visualized the absolute heat of a thousand loops. I commanded the reality

The black ink didn't drown me; it weighed me down like liquid lead. I was pinned to the floor of the library, my chest heaving against a pressure that wasn't physical—it was philosophical."Faceslap of a psychological lockdown," I wheezed, my eyes burning a manic, desperate red. "Get your hands off me!"The three Father-Bots didn't flinch. They stood in a perfect triangle around me, their faces radiating a calm, terrifying kindness. One of them stepped forward, clicking his silver pen."Elias, son, look at the state of you," he said. The voice was a perfect match for the man who’d taught me to ride a bike. "You’re vibrating with unproductive anger. It’s inefficient. It’s illogical.""Logic?" I spat, trying to lift my arm. It felt like it weighed ten tons. "You’re a script-walking puppet, Marcus’s errand boy! You don’t know the first thing about logic!""On the contrary," a second Father-Bot said, adjusting his glasses. "We are the embodiment of your own conclusions. You wanted a world

The Edit Suite hummed with the sound of a billion burning memories. I stood in front of the desk, my boots anchored in glowing floor-grids, staring at the woman who had started it all. Sarah didn't look like a god, even if she held the red pen of creation. She looked tired."Faceslap of a promotion, Sarah," I spat, my violet eyes bleeding back into a predatory red. "You went from a corpse in Chapter One to the Guardian of the Universe. Who did you have to audit to get the corner office?"Sarah didn't flinch. She tapped the red pen against the storyboard of my life. "You think this was a reward, Elias? When you hit the reset button—when you shattered the Ninth Heaven and forced the world into this 'Mortal' shell—the System needed a stabilizer. A soul that knew the old code but was tied to the original sin.""So you're the janitor," I rasped, stepping closer. The Original Qi was vibrating in my chest, a hot pulse against the sterile light of the suite. "You’ve been scrubbing the blood o

The blood from my ears had dried into a crusty, black rust by the time I woke up on a park bench in Hyde Park. London was still standing, but the "Amalgamation" was gone. The ten thousand lives were no longer screaming in my skull; they were tucked into the corners of my mind like a library of ghosts. My head throbbed with the rhythm of a sledgehammer, but I was solid. I was still here."Faceslap of a biological reboot," I croaked, rubbing the dried ink from my eyes.The city was buzzing. People were drinking coffee, checking their watches, and ignoring the fact that a five-hundred-foot giant had nearly stomped them into a blank page an hour ago. The "System" had scrubbed the event, rewriting it as a freak atmospheric anomaly.I looked up as two people walked down the gravel path. My heart stopped."Julian? Lydia?"They were walking together, laughing. Julian looked exactly as he had in Oakhaven, but Lydia... she was vibrant. She was wearing a lab coat, a clipboard tucked under her ar

The scent of peonies and jasmine was already being choked out by the sterile smell of static. The botanical garden I’d made of the tanks was flickering, the pink petals turning back into cold, grey pixels."Faceslap of a short-lived spring," I spat, wiping ink-black blood from my chin. "Julian, Lydia! Move! The pavement is losing its collision data!""My head... Elias, it’s like a dam breaking!" Julian stumbled, clutching his temples. He looked at the flower-strewn street, then at me. "The motor oil... the Nine Heavens... I remember the smell of the Void. I remember the high-rise!""Good! Keep that memory tucked in tight!" I grabbed his arm, hauling him toward a side alley as the street began to dissolve into a white, featureless grid. "Lydia, keep the sky busy!"Lydia hovered above us, her hair a roaring mane of phoenix-fire. "The helicopters are back, Elias! But they aren't military anymore. Look at the insignias!"I looked up. The black choppers didn't have the roundels of the RAF.