The rain had finally stopped, leaving behind a world slick with damp and heavy with silence. Victor Harrow stood at the edge of the docks, his breath curling in the frigid night air, his coat damp from the mist rolling off the water. He had spent hours pacing these alleys, retracing his steps, watching for any flicker, any ripple in the air that might signal the presence of another tear.

  But there was nothing.

  The corridor that had brought Anna here had sealed itself, leaving them stranded in a world that didn’t belong to her.

  Victor clenched his jaw, pulling a small pendant from his pocket—the same one Anna had been clutching when he first found her. A simple charm, shaped like a bird in flight, the metal cool against his skin. It was an object too delicate, too personal for a child lost in the vastness of two worlds. He frowned, running his thumb over its edges when he felt it—

  A vibration.

  His breath hitched. It wasn’t his imagination. The pendant pulsed in his palm, subtle but undeniable, like an echo of something unseen.

  He turned it over, watching the way it shimmered faintly in the glow of the lamplights.

  It was responding to something.

  Anna sat nearby on an overturned crate, Victor’s too-big coat draped over her small frame. She looked even smaller beneath it, her thin fingers gripping the fabric as if it might shield her from everything unfamiliar around her. The soft shimmer of the now-vanished tear reflected in her green eyes—wide, uncertain, lost.

  Victor knelt in front of her, his voice quiet but steady. “It’s gone, Anna. The tear… it’s closed.”

  Anna swallowed hard, her tiny hands curling into fists. “So does that mean I can’t go back? That I can’t see Thomas again?”

  His chest tightened at the quiet devastation in her voice.

  “No,” he said, firm. “That just means we need to find another way.”

  A sharp buzz from his comm unit broke the stillness. Maria’s name flashed on the screen.

  Victor exhaled before answering. “Yeah?”

  “Victor,” her voice was a blend of relief and frustration. “Where the hell are you?”

  “At the docks,” he said, running a hand through his damp hair. “The passage closed. It’s gone.”

  Maria’s voice softened. “Is Anna okay?”

  Victor glanced back at the child, who hugged her knees tighter. “She’s scared,” he admitted. “She doesn’t understand what’s happening, and I can’t blame her.”

  Maria hesitated. “Bring her back here.”

  Victor stiffened. “I can’t. Not yet. I need to find another tear.”

  “Victor,” she sighed. “She deserves more than just being dragged from one empty lead to the next. She needs someone who can take care of her. Right now, that’s you.”

  His jaw worked, frustration and obligation colliding. “Fine,” he said finally. “But this isn’t over.”

  Maria’s apartment was warmer than he remembered.

  The scent of cinnamon and something vaguely herbal lingered in the air, wrapping around them like a forgotten memory. Anna hesitated in the doorway, peering up at Maria with wary eyes.

  “Come in,” Maria said softly, ushering the girl inside. She wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and guided her toward the couch near the fire. The child barely spoke, curling into the warmth with a quiet, exhausted sigh.

  Maria knelt beside her, murmuring reassurances as she tucked the blanket tighter. Victor hovered near the doorway, arms crossed, watching them.

  There was something about the way Maria interacted with the girl—gentle, patient, maternal. It unsettled him. Not because he didn’t trust her, but because it reminded him of what he had lost.

  Maria looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “She’s exhausted. Let her rest.”

  Victor nodded, stepping further into the room. He stood near the kitchen table, tension tightening his shoulders as Maria returned from the couch, her gaze heavy on him.

  “She talked about her brother,” Maria said, keeping her voice low. “She thinks this is her fault—that she was taken away because she did something wrong.”

  Victor rubbed a hand over his face. “She’s a kid. She shouldn’t have to bear that weight.”

  Maria studied him, something unreadable in her gaze. “You love her, don’t you?”

  Victor hesitated. “I barely know her.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  His hands curled into fists. “She reminds me of what I lost. Of what I can’t fix. But if I can bring her back to her brother, then maybe… maybe that’s something.”

  Maria reached across the table, her fingers ghosting over his. “Victor, you don’t have to do this alone.”

  He stiffened.

  “I do,” he said, stepping back.

  Maria’s expression tightened, but she didn’t argue.

  Victor turned toward the door. “I need to find the next tear. If they’re appearing at random, I can’t afford to sit here wasting time.”

  Maria sighed, crossing her arms. “Just don’t forget—she doesn’t just need someone chasing answers. She needs someone who makes her feel safe.”

  Victor glanced at Anna, her small form curled beneath the blanket, her face serene in the firelight.

  “I’ll be on the next tear,” he said, softer now. “And I’ll bring her back.”

  The docks were empty when Victor returned the next evening.

  The mist clung to the streets like a lingering ghost, and the city’s distant hum was drowned beneath the steady thrum of his heartbeat. He moved with purpose, tracing the steps he had walked before, searching for something—anything—that might signal another breach in reality.

  Then, in his pocket, the pendant hummed again.

  Victor’s breath hitched.

  He pulled it free, watching as it pulsed faintly in his palm, like a heartbeat trying to match his own. The closer he moved to the water’s edge, the stronger the vibration became.

  “You’re leading me somewhere,” he muttered under his breath.

  The pendant tugged him forward, past the loading docks, through narrow, abandoned roads, and into the desolate industrial district. There, towering above the skeletal remains of an old city block, stood the ruins of an ancient museum—its once-grand entrance now crumbling, its windows dark with forgotten history.

  Victor’s pulse quickened.

  The pendant pulsed in his grip, as if urging him forward.

  The air around the museum was heavy, charged with something unseen. Static buzzed at the edges of his senses, a low hum pressing against his skin. Then, as he neared the main entrance, he saw it—

  A tear.

  It flickered in the center of the exhibit hall, its edges rippling like disturbed water. Unlike the last, this one was unstable, the distortion crackling with erratic energy.

  Victor swallowed hard.

  “If this is the way…” he murmured, voice hoarse, “then I’ll find it.”

  He reached out.

  Sparks erupted where his fingers brushed the surface, the space between worlds yawning open like the maw of something ancient. Then, before he could steady himself—

  The tear pulsed.

  A violent force seized him, yanking him forward with an intensity that stole the breath from his lungs. He staggered, fighting against it, but it was too strong. The energy wrapped around him like invisible chains, dragging him into the abyss.

  “No!” he bellowed, reaching for anything—his pendant, his coat, the ground beneath his feet—

  But the world shattered.

  Colors bled into darkness, the familiar dissolving into the unknown. The air changed, the weight of existence shifting around him as the tear spat him out into—

  Cold.

  The pavement beneath him was cracked and wet. The sky above swirled in hues of green and gold, alien and unrecognizable. The air was thick, damp, filled with whispers that didn’t belong to this world.

  Victor’s heart slammed against his ribs.

  Wherever he was now—it was miles away from the world he knew.

  Anna sat on the rug, legs crossed, a steaming cup of tea cradled between her small hands. The ceramic was too large for her, delicate fingers barely wrapped around it, but she held on with the kind of quiet determination Maria had come to admire.

  The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken words.

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  “It’s nice here,” Anna murmured eventually, voice soft, barely above a whisper. “Warm. Safe.”

  Maria smiled, though it was laced with something distant, something heavy. “I’m glad you think so. You’re always welcome here.”

  Anna hesitated. Her fingers tightened around the cup. “But it’s not home.”

  The words hung in the air, a quiet devastation wrapped in simplicity.

  Maria exhaled, nodding. “I know.” She studied the girl’s small frame, her face shadowed by flickering firelight. “You miss your brother, don’t you?”

  Anna nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving the flames. “Thomas always looked after me. Even when I got in trouble, he’d cover for me.” A small, sad smile tugged at her lips. “He said it was his job. Because he’s the big brother.”

  Maria leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “He sounds like a good brother.”

  “He is,” Anna said, but her voice wavered. She swallowed hard. “And my mum… she always said everything would be fine, no matter what. But now...” She blinked rapidly, her breath hitching. “Now I don’t know when I’ll see them again.”

  Maria felt her chest tighten, a familiar ache clawing its way to the surface. She reached out instinctively, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Anna’s ear. “You will see them again,” she promised. “Victor won’t stop until he finds a way. And until then, you’re not alone.”

  Anna looked up at her, those green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Do you really think he can find a way?”

  Maria forced a smile, but doubt curled at the edges of her resolve. “If anyone can, it’s Victor. He’s stubborn like that.”

  A flicker of something close to a smile ghosted across Anna’s lips. “You talk about him like you know him really well.”

  Maria let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “We were close once. A long time ago.” Her voice softened. “Before things got complicated.”

  Anna tilted her head. “What happened?”

  Maria hesitated, tracing the edge of her sleeve absently. “Life happened. We both had our faults, and those faults drove us apart. But in our hearts…” She exhaled. “I think we’ve both been searching for a way back to each other. Even if we don’t admit it.”

  Anna studied her for a long moment, her gaze thoughtful, perceptive in a way that only children could be. “You still care about him.”

  Maria chuckled, but there was no amusement in it. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  Anna shrugged. “Thomas always says I ask too many.”

  Maria shook her head. “That’s not a bad thing. Sometimes, asking the right question is the only way to find the truth.”

  Anna seemed to take that to heart. She put down her cup and leaned against Maria’s knee, seeking comfort she hadn’t realized she needed. Without thinking, Maria wrapped an arm around her, holding her close.

  “Do you have kids?” Anna asked suddenly, her voice muffled against Maria’s sleeve.

  Maria froze. Her breath hitched. She hesitated before shaking her head. “No,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I was going to, but… it never happened.”

  Anna snuggled closer. “I think you’d be a good mum.” Her voice was soft, sincere. “You make me feel safe.”

  Maria’s throat tightened. A lump formed, and for the first time in years, she felt tears sting the corners of her eyes. She pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Anna’s head. “Thank you, Anna,” she whispered. “That means more than you know.”

  And for the first time, Anna allowed herself to let go. To simply be a child in the arms of someone who cared.

  For that moment, they weren’t a lost girl and a woman haunted by the past. They were simply two souls finding solace in each other.

  Elsewhere…

  Victor Harrow hit the ground hard.

  The impact sent a shockwave through his body, knocking the air from his lungs. He rolled onto his side, coughing, his hands digging into the cold, fractured ground beneath him. His muscles screamed in protest as he pushed himself up, his vision swimming.

  The world around him was… wrong.

  The sky churned in unnatural hues of green and gold, swirling like something alive. Jagged spires of black stone jutted from the cracked earth, their surfaces shimmering with an eerie, oil-slick sheen. The air was thick, humid, clinging to his skin like a second layer.

  And the whispers.

  They slithered through the air, curling around him, words that didn’t belong to any language he knew but still gnawed at the edges of his mind.

  Victor forced himself to his feet, legs unsteady beneath him. He reached instinctively for the pendant in his pocket. It pulsed against his palm, as if responding to the unnatural energy surrounding him.

  “Where the hell am I?” he muttered.

  He scanned the landscape, eyes narrowing at a distant glow—pulsing light, neither bright nor dim, shifting between color and shadow. It was the only landmark in this godforsaken place, so he set his course toward it.

  But something was watching him.

  He felt it before he saw it. A weight, a presence lurking just beyond the periphery of his vision.

  The whispers grew louder.

  Then—movement.

  Victor turned sharply, gun drawn. A figure darted between the spires, barely more than a shadow against the shifting light. His pulse hammered.

  “Who’s there?” he demanded. His voice carried in the unnatural silence, swallowed by the thick air.

  The whispers stopped.

  The stillness that followed was worse.

  Then, slowly, something stepped into view.

  It had the shape of a man—but its proportions were all wrong. Too tall. Too thin. Its limbs stretched unnaturally, its head cocked at an unsettling angle. Golden light burned in the hollows where eyes should have been.

  Victor didn’t move. His grip tightened on his weapon.

  “Stay back,” he warned.

  The creature took another step forward.

  Victor’s breath came shallow, his instincts screaming at him. He had faced killers, seen war, looked death in the eye. But this?

  This wasn’t death.

  This was something worse.

  Something that had been waiting for him.

  Victor’s grip on his weapon tightened as the figure moved closer. Its elongated limbs moved with an unnatural grace, and its glowing eyes seemed to pierce through him. But it made no hostile gestures. Instead, it stopped a few feet away, tilting its head like a curious animal.

  Victor’s breath was shallow, the oppressive air of this world weighing on his chest. He lowered his weapon slightly but kept it at the ready. "I don’t want trouble," he repeated, though he knew the words were likely meaningless to this being.

  The figure’s head tilted again, and then it raised one of its long arms. Its hand, if it could be called that, had too many joints and ended in delicate, translucent fingers that shimmered faintly. Slowly, it pointed toward the glow in the distance—the same destination Victor had been heading toward.

  Victor hesitated. "You want me to go there?" he asked, pointing with his free hand toward the light.

  The figure didn’t respond verbally, but it nodded once, a motion so eerily human it sent a chill down Victor’s spine. "Alright," Victor muttered, "I’m calling you Oscar. Easier than just saying 'you' all the time." The name felt oddly fitting, a way to humanize the strange creature now guiding him. It turned and began walking toward the glow, its movements fluid and deliberate. After a moment, it stopped and looked back, as if waiting for him.

  Victor swallowed hard, glancing around the alien landscape. The oppressive whispers had started again, growing louder and more urgent. Whatever this place was, it didn’t want him here. His legs felt heavy, his breath growing shallower with each step. The air itself was poison, laced with something unseen, something seeping into his blood like slow venom. His body was rejecting this place, every nerve screaming for him to turn back.

  But there was no turning back.

  As they walked, Victor noticed more about the world around him. The jagged spires of black stone seemed to pulse faintly, their surfaces covered in intricate, vein-like patterns that glowed with a faint golden light. The ground beneath his feet crunched like brittle glass but hummed with energy, almost as if it were alive. Strange, insect-like creatures skittered across the terrain, their bodies translucent and glowing faintly. Plants, if they could be called that, shifted and writhed as he passed, their tendrils reaching toward him as though curious about his presence. Some pulsed as if breathing. Others seemed to whisper, but not in words—just a nauseating, rhythmic hum that made his teeth ache.

  The air grew heavier the further they went, and Victor’s vision began to blur at the edges. A sickly heat crawled beneath his skin, pooling in his lungs, making every breath feel like inhaling something rotten, something wrong. His heartbeat pounded irregularly, sluggish one moment, too fast the next.

  He stumbled, catching himself against one of the spires. Oscar stopped, turning to watch him. It made a soft, melodic sound—a series of notes that seemed to carry meaning.

  "I… don’t understand," Victor said, his voice hoarse. "The air… it’s killing me."

  The figure tilted its head again, then raised its hand. A faint shimmer appeared around Victor, and suddenly, he felt a small relief. The oppressive weight on his chest lessened, though not completely. The poison in his veins receded, but it was still there, waiting. A slow death, delayed, not denied.

  "Thanks," Victor muttered, though he wasn’t sure if the figure understood gratitude.

  They continued in silence until they reached the glow. What Victor had thought was a distant light was actually a massive structure—a monolithic tower that seemed to stretch endlessly into the swirling green and gold sky. Its surface was covered in the same glowing patterns as the spires, but they pulsed with a rhythm that felt almost alive, like the heartbeat of something sleeping beneath the surface of this place.

  The figure stopped at the base of the tower, placing its hand against the surface. A ripple spread outward, and the faint outline of a doorway appeared. It gestured for Victor to follow, stepping inside.

  The interior of the tower was dimly lit, the walls alive with shifting patterns. Victor’s head swam as he tried to take it all in. The air inside was slightly easier to breathe, though he still felt the weight of this world pressing on him, the poison curling through his blood like smoke in water.

  Oscar led him to a central chamber where a massive, translucent orb hovered above the ground. Inside the orb, shapes moved—images of worlds colliding, tears forming, and creatures slipping through the barriers between dimensions. Victor stared, his stomach twisting as he realized the scale of what was happening.

  Oscar pointed at the orb, then at Victor, and finally back at the orb. It made another melodic sound, its tone urgent and pleading.

  Victor frowned, trying to piece together what it was saying. "You’re showing me… the tears?"

  The figure nodded, then gestured to the images of creatures crossing through the tears—some human, some alien. It placed its hand over its chest and then extended it outward, a motion that seemed to convey offering or sacrifice.

  "You’re trying to stop this," Victor said slowly. "You want to… help?"

  Oscar’s glowing eyes blinked slowly in what Victor interpreted as confirmation. It gestured to the images of the tears again, this time showing them growing larger and more numerous. The more figures crossed through, the more the barriers weakened.

  Victor’s heart sank. "Every time someone crosses over… it makes it worse."

  Oscar nodded again, its body language heavy with something that almost felt like regret. It pointed at Victor, then at the orb, and then made a sweeping motion outward.

  Victor narrowed his eyes. "You want me to stop it."

  But before they could move, the tower shuddered violently. The orb in the center flickered, and the whispers outside grew louder, more frantic.

  Victor turned to the figure. "What’s happening?"

  Oscar made a series of rapid gestures, its urgency clear. It pointed to the map, then to Victor, and finally to the exit.

  The poison was waking up. This place wasn’t just rejecting Victor. It was consuming him. And if they didn’t leave now, it wouldn’t just be his blood turning against him—it would be the entire world.

  "We have to go," Victor said, gripping the pendant in his pocket. "Now."

  The figure led the way back to the entrance, but as they stepped outside, they were confronted by a group of other entities. These newcomers were different—larger, more menacing, their forms crackling with unstable energy. Their eyes burned with a harsh, white light, and they moved with a predatory grace.

  The poison surged through Victor’s veins as the chase began. And in the pit of his stomach, he knew—this wasn’t over. It had only just begun.

  Then one of them lunged.

  Victor didn’t think. He fired. The gunshot echoed through the alien landscape, a futile sound swallowed by the screams of the world itself.

  Oscar grabbed Victor’s arm and pulled him forward. The tear flickered in the distance—unstable, shimmering like heat on asphalt. Their only way out.

  "RUN!" Victor shouted.

  Oscar didn’t need to understand the word. It just moved.

  The aggressors followed.

  The ground shook beneath them. The air thickened. Victor’s lungs burned again.

  But the tear was close.

  Then—Oscar stopped.

  Victor turned, breathless, confused. "What are you doing?!"

  The creature lifted its hands. The golden light around it flared brighter than before. The air shattered.

  A pulse of sound—deafening, rippling, tearing through reality.

  The aggressors recoiled, shrieking as the energy rippled outward, slamming into them like a tidal wave.

  Victor stumbled forward. The tear was closing.

  "Oscar—come on!"

  The creature didn’t move.

  It turned to him, just for a moment. A moment too long.

  The aggressors surged forward.

  And as Victor fell through the tear, the last thing he saw was Oscar standing tall against the oncoming storm.

  The last thing he heard was the final note of its song.

  Then the world shattered.

  And Victor was falling.