The air tore open with a sound that wasn't sound—a vibration that went through the bone and made the heart hesitate. Hana didn't feel herself jump. One moment she was standing on the ledge beside Lin, the city's horizon trembling under a web of crimson light. The next, she was inside that rip, falling through color that felt alive, light that bent backward, and silence that pressed against her lungs.

The Seam wasn't space. It was a wound. It pulsed, raw and wet, like the inside of something that shouldn't be touched. Every flicker of motion showed flashes of memory—the hospital roof, Keller's half-smile, the echo of sirens, the touch of Lin's hand. But the moment Hana tried to focus, they warped and slipped away, replaced by empty faces and wrong voices.

"Don't listen," Lin's voice came through the static, distant but steady. "It feeds on focus."

Hana's breath came ragged. Her body moved like it was underwater. Around them, the threads of the Seam writhed, luminous veins threading the dark. Each pulse drew her attention, promising understanding, promising Keller's face—if she just looked closer.

She forced her eyes down. Her fingers brushed Lin's, the one real thing in this place.

"Keep moving," he said again. "He's close."

Close. The word vibrated through her. Keller. Somewhere ahead of them, beyond the distortion, she could feel a presence—familiar, fractured, calling out without sound. It felt like gravity pulling her chest forward.

But then came the laughter.

It started as a whisper, faint and warm. Keller's voice. "You always come running, don't you, Hana?"

She froze.

The glow in front of her twisted into shape—his outline, his height, that crooked smirk. But his eyes were hollow, and when he reached for her, his hand bent wrong, too many joints, too much hunger.

Lin saw it too. "It's not him," he snapped, grabbing her wrist. "The Seam's using him to keep you here."

Hana's tears stung, and she shook her head, refusing to believe it. "But—what if—"

The fake Keller's mouth stretched wider. "You left me," it hissed, voice breaking into three layers at once. "You're always too late."

Lin pulled her back sharply. "That's not Keller's voice. Listen to me. The real one's still fighting."

For a second, the false Keller's body glitched, like static on a broken screen. Then it shattered into light, dissolving into the veins around them. The Seam shivered, as if offended.

"Keep going," Lin said again. "Before it learns your pattern."

They pushed forward. Each step was a fall. Time didn't pass here—it stretched and recoiled, like elastic snapping under tension. The colors changed from deep violet to blinding white, and the noise became unbearable—a chorus of whispers, each one trying to be believed.

Somewhere inside the chaos, Hana began to feel Keller's heartbeat—not physically, but like a pulse inside her chest answering hers. The rhythm wasn't right; it stuttered, slowed, then caught again. She reached toward the source.

Then the ground beneath them—if it could be called that—cracked.

Lin's glove flared red. The tether runes inside it glowed, symbols searing through the material. He felt Keller's signal spike on his neural map.

"He's slipping," Lin said. "If I don't stabilize the line—"

"What happens?" Hana asked, her voice shaking.

"I'll have to burn the tether." He didn't look at her. "It'll drag him through, but it might take me with him. Or it'll kill me."

Hana's throat tightened. "No. There has to be another way."

"There isn't. Not with this much interference." Lin's tone was calm, but his pulse was too loud in his ears. "I made the tether to keep Keller anchored. If I don't use it now, he's gone."

Before Hana could respond, the Seam screamed. A wave of distortion tore through them, throwing her backward. She hit nothing, yet pain shot through her ribs. The world inverted—black became white, up became inside—and suddenly she was alone.

The light dimmed, and the laughter returned.

This time, it wasn't Keller's voice. It was hers.

A version of Hana stepped from the mist, wearing the same clothes, the same fear in her eyes. "You think you can save them all," the reflection whispered. "But you never do. You destroy everything you touch."

"Stop." Hana clenched her fists.

"You couldn't save Keller the first time. You couldn't stop the collapse. And now you'll kill Lin too."

"Stop!" she shouted, stepping forward, and swung—her hand cut through light. The reflection cracked like glass, shards of herself scattering into the void.

From the darkness, Lin's voice came faint, strained. "Hana! Find me!"

She turned, focusing on the tether's glow. A faint red thread shimmered in the dark, trembling, leading her forward. She followed, ignoring the whispers, ignoring her own trembling breath.

Ahead, Lin was kneeling, both hands pressed to the ground, the glove burning bright. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed on something unseen. The air around him distorted violently, bending light like heat haze.

"Keller's right there," he said through gritted teeth. "I can feel him trying to break through. Just—just a little more."

Hana dropped beside him. "Then do it. Burn the tether."

He looked up sharply. "You'll hate me for it."

"I'll hate you if you stop."

Something in her tone cut through him. Lin exhaled, nodded once, and activated the tether.

The glove ignited—literal fire crawling up his arm, burning the air. Symbols on his skin glowed through the flesh, pulsing faster and faster. The Seam howled. From the white void ahead, a shadow struggled to form—Keller's silhouette, hands reaching out, eyes wide with something between rage and relief.

The pull was immense. Hana felt it dragging at her bones, tearing at her breath. She reached forward, screaming his name.

"KELLER!"

Their hands almost touched. For one impossible moment, all three of them were connected—Hana's heartbeat, Lin's tether, Keller's half-formed presence caught in the space between. The Seam rippled violently, its light fracturing like a mirror struck by thunder.

Then, the explosion.

A wave of white swallowed everything. The sound of shattering glass, the smell of ozone, the taste of metal—all fused into one overwhelming sensation.

When Hana opened her eyes, she was lying on cold concrete. The night sky above her was the color of ash. Her ears rang.

Lin was beside her, motionless. His glove was gone, burned away to the elbow. The skin underneath was blackened, the symbols gone.

And a few feet away, half-covered in dust and smoke—

Keller.

He was breathing. Barely. But he was real.

Hana crawled toward him, tears streaming freely now, mixing with the grime and blood. She touched his face—warm. His eyes flickered open, dazed.

"You came," he whispered, voice cracked.

"Always," she breathed.

Behind them, the air shimmered again—the Seam's wound trying to close, but something dark still pulsed within it. Lin stirred weakly, eyes unfocused.

"It's not done," he rasped. "That thing—it followed us."

Hana turned toward the flickering rip. And in its reflection, she saw movement.

Something had crossed over.

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