The rift behind them pulsed with unnatural light, humming like a chorus of forgotten voices. Casen stood at its edge, heart pounding, unsure whether it was awe or terror—or both—that made his legs tremble. The air around the First Fracture had changed. Thicker. Humming. Charged.

  "It’s not closing," Elian whispered.

  "Was it supposed to?" Milo asked, poking the edge of the rift with a stick he found lying nearby. The stick caught fire and vanished. Milo blinked. "Cool. Not touching that again."

  Casen tore his gaze from the rift and looked around. The Ash Core chamber had begun to dim. Walls of memory-glass now flickered erratically, scenes sputtering out like dying projectors.

  "We need to leave," Casen said. "Before this place decides to fold in on itself."

  They retraced their steps quickly, climbing out of the crater under cover of shadow. The Black-Suits had retreated—but not far. Milo’s decoy had confused them, but the noise from the Fracture had likely drawn them back.

  By the time they reached the outskirts of the city, night was falling. And something was wrong with it.

  The air shimmered faintly, like heatwaves off concrete. Casen glanced at his phone.

  11:57 PM.

  And then—

  The world stilled.

  A boy on a bike froze mid-pedal, suspended in the street. A cat leapt from a fence and hung in mid-air. Streetlights flickered, casting double-shadows. Even the breeze stopped.

  Elian gripped Casen’s arm. "It’s happening again."

  Casen shook his head. "No. This is different. They’re not coming. They’re already here."

  At the edge of his vision, movement.

  Not the living.

  Not the usual ghosts, either.

  A woman walked backward down a stairwell that had been demolished a decade ago. A man stood frozen mid-shout in a diner that hadn’t existed in years. Whole fragments of past reality had reappeared—like echoes surfacing through the cracks.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "Fragment Realities," Milo said quietly. "Wynn said these would show up if we broke a core. Time leaks."

  Casen stepped toward a frozen loop of people walking a crosswalk—again and again, repeating their steps every five seconds. "Why now? Why these?"

  "The First Fracture," Elian murmured. "We’ve opened the Faultline. It’s not just the dead crossing anymore. It’s pieces of time."

  As they passed one fragment, Elian stopped.

  Her own face stared back at her—ghost-pale, wide-eyed, and... different. Her hair longer. Her expression darker. The reflection moved before she did.

  "That’s not me," she said. "That’s—something else."

  Casen touched her shoulder. "Let’s keep moving."

  They headed to an abandoned NOVUM safehouse where Wynn had said she would meet them. It was buried beneath a collapsed subway line. Inside, the lights flickered red—backup power only.

  Wynn wasn’t there yet.

  But something else was.

  Dr. Sel Wynn’s voice crackled from a monitor. "Don’t panic. I’m speaking remotely. I’m not safe in the city."

  Casen leaned toward the screen. "The Faultline—what is it doing?"

  Wynn looked more tired than before. Her eyes were sunken, voice strained. "It’s starting. The bleed-through. Ghosts appearing outside the Noon Window. Past and present layering over each other. The world won’t stay stable for long."

  Elian stepped forward. "Why us? Why did you pick Casen and me?"

  Wynn looked down. "Because you’re not random. You were always part of the anomaly. Casen... your mother worked on the original Fracture project. You were exposed early—before memory erasure protocols were standard. Your brain doesn’t forget ghosts the same way others do."

  Casen’s breath caught. "You said she died in a breach."

  Wynn nodded slowly. "That’s the story NOVUM told. But her body was never recovered. And recently... I found something. A corrupted Red List file. It had her name."

  Casen stepped back.

  "She’s dead," he said. "I saw her file."

  Wynn looked at him sadly. "You saw the file. But the file also had a second name. Yours. No date of death. Just the tag: anomaly."

  A cold silence filled the room.

  Milo whistled low. "So you’re, like, ghost famous. Congrats?"

  Elian turned to Casen. "You’re on the Red List... but untagged. What does that mean?"

  Wynn’s voice sharpened. "It means he’s not dead—but he’s not untouched. And the Black-Suits will know. They’re hunting anomalies now. Especially ones who’ve seen the Fracture."

  Casen rubbed his face. "So what do we do? We opened the door. What’s the next step?"

  Wynn’s voice lowered. "Now you find the second Fracture. And close it—before the first one grows."

  A crash outside.

  The screen blinked out.

  Milo swore. "Company."

  But it wasn’t Black-Suits.

  Casen peeked through the cracked wall—and saw it.

  A ghost. But wrong.

  Its face melted and warped. Its presence was oppressive, like a scream given form. It staggered toward the safehouse, leaving a trail of rot behind it.

  Not just a ghost.

  A Wraith.

  It locked eyes with Casen. And didn’t vanish at the hour.

  It stayed.

  And charged.