The first sign is subtle - a faint vibration in the darkness behind my eye, a sense of quantum frequencies shifting in unusual patterns. I'm reviewing more of Rachel's research while James sleeps, the quantum dead zone reactivated to help him rest without dimensional dreams.

  Then the device's displays light up with warnings.

  "No," I whisper, studying the readings. "No no no..."

  Reality ripples about six blocks away - not the natural dimensional interface I've learned to work with, but something forced. Artificial. The Church trying to tear open spaces that should flow together naturally.

  I check James, still unconscious in his protective field. The device shows his neural patterns finally stabilizing after three days of adaptation to damaged perception. I can't wake him, can't risk exposing his altered consciousness to an artificial quantum breach.

  Which means I'm on my own.

  The darkness pulses as I grab equipment - the device itself and a few of Rachel's quantum stabilizers. No time for anything else.

  The disturbance grows stronger as I run, reality buckling under artificial manipulation. The device's displays show cascading instabilities - this is bigger than their usual tests. They're trying something new.

  I find them in an old factory, Church vehicles surrounding the building. Inside, the air crackles with forced dimensional contact. Twenty or more members in robes maintain a complex ritual array, channeling power through symbols that shouldn't exist in normal space.

  But what stops me cold is what they're doing with that power.

  They've opened not one tear but three, arranged in a triangular pattern. Each breach pulses with artificial frequencies, each one feeding into the others in a self-sustaining cycle. The device's readings spike into critical ranges - they're not just tearing reality, they're creating a resonance loop that's getting stronger.

  "Field harmonics stabilizing," someone reports. "Quantum cascade approaching threshold."

  The darkness shows me what they've achieved - a perpetual breach engine, tears that keep each other open through forced resonance. Even if I stop the rituals, the triangle of breaches might sustain itself.

  I need to act fast. But as I move closer, something reaches through one of the tears - a tendril of awareness testing artificial pathways between dimensions. Then another through the second breach. And a third.

  The Church members see it too. But instead of stopping, they intensify their chants.

  "Multiple contact events," someone calls out. "Quantum signatures match previous manifestations."

  Horror hits as I realize what's happening. They're not just creating sustainable tears - they're building a beacon. The resonance loop is drawing attention from spaces between spaces, calling to entities that exist outside normal dimensional boundaries.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  I reach out with the darkness, trying to disrupt their rituals. But the triangle of breaches has its own momentum now, artificial frequencies building on each other. Reality groans under the strain of forced contact.

  "The prototype is here\!" Someone spots me. Guards move to intercept, but I'm already inside their outer containment ring.

  I manage to disrupt one section of their ritual array, sending quantum feedback through their artificial channels. Several Church members cry out as forced power rebounds through their connections. One of the tears begins to destabilize.

  But the other two strengthen to compensate, their resonance loop adapting to maintain the beacon effect. The device's warnings become urgent - local space-time is starting to unravel as the breaches feed each other.

  Something massive stirs in the spaces between spaces, drawn by their quantum signal. Not Adrian's fractured consciousness, but something older. Something that exists in geometries human minds can't process.

  I push harder, using natural quantum manipulation to counter their artificial methods. The second tear starts to collapse as reality tries to heal itself. But the third one...

  The third breach explodes outward as whatever they've drawn finally responds to their beacon. Church members scatter as dimensional barriers shred under pressure from outside. I throw everything I have into containing the damage, working with natural frequencies to stabilize local space-time.

  But I can't be everywhere at once. Can't stop what's already reaching through.

  Reality tears completely around the third breach. I catch glimpses of something vast and geometric trying to manifest - not fully entering our dimension, but establishing a permanent connection. A foothold.

  The factory's structure begins to warp as space-time distorts. I manage to contain the effect, prevent it from spreading to the surrounding neighborhood. But the cost is losing my chance to close the third breach completely.

  "Fall back\!" someone orders. "Primary objective achieved. Quantum beacon established."

  They run, leaving their equipment but taking their data. Taking their success. I'm left alone with a partially manifested entity that exists in angles that hurt to look at, trying to hold reality stable around a breach that won't fully close.

  The device shows what they've accomplished - a sustainable tear anchored by something powerful enough to maintain it from the other side. I can contain it, restrict its effects to this building, but I can't close it without risking catastrophic dimensional collapse.

  A pyrrhic victory at best. The Church has what they wanted - proof that their artificial methods can create stable breaches under the right conditions. Proof that they can draw attention from spaces between spaces.

  I spend hours carefully weaving quantum barriers around the damaged factory, using natural dimensional interfaces to contain artificial ones. The breach remains, held open by whatever vast intelligence they attracted, but at least its effects are limited to this one location.

  Finally, exhausted, I head back to the motel. The device's displays show the containment holding, but the warnings don't stop. Can't stop, with a permanent tear in local reality.

  James is still asleep in his quantum dead zone, unaware that the Church has evolved their methods. Unaware that they've succeeded in creating something sustainable through artificial means.

  I check the containment readings one last time, knowing I'll need to monitor them constantly now. Knowing I've failed to prevent the Church from establishing their first permanent foothold between dimensions.

  The darkness pulses with something like defeat as I settle in to wait for James to wake. Time to face what we've lost. Time to understand what the Church has gained.

  Time to figure out how to fight an enemy that's learning to make their artificial methods work almost as well as natural ones.

  Almost.

  But maybe that's enough to give them what they want.

  The device hums quietly, maintaining James's protective field while monitoring a breach that won't close, a tear that will need constant containment.

  One partial victory at a time.

  For however long we have left.