Three days of maintaining dual containment fields - natural and artificial - around the breach starts taking its toll. The black fluid that sometimes leaks from my left eye comes more frequently now, leaving trails down my cheek that move like living ink before absorbing into my skin.

  "You need to rest," James says from within his quantum dead zone. He's learned to open his eyes for short periods, though probability trails still overwhelm him quickly. "You're pushing too hard."

  I check the device's readings again, ignoring how my hands shake. "Can't rest. The entity keeps testing the barriers, learning from each contact. If I don't maintain constant adjustment..."

  A wave of dizziness hits, making reality ripple strangely around me. More black fluid wells up, not just from my eye now but from my tear ducts, my nose, anywhere consciousness interfaces directly with flesh.

  "Vesper." James's voice holds carefully controlled panic. "You're bleeding through."

  "Not bleeding. Just... dimensional bleed." I wipe away the black substance, watching it writhe with suggestions of impossible geometries before seeping into my skin. "Natural reaction to maintaining both natural and artificial quantum fields simultaneously."

  But we both know it's more than that. The device's readings show my quantum signature becoming increasingly unstable - not fragmented like Adrian's, but stretched thin across too many dimensional interfaces at once. Like a muscle held under constant tension until fibers start to tear.

  Another wave of dizziness. The motel room's shadows move wrongly as my control slips. James quickly shuts his eyes against probability trails that suddenly show too many possible states simultaneously.

  "You're not just maintaining the containment fields," he says. "You're burning yourself out trying to hold everything stable at once - the breach, the entity, Adrian's artificial methods, Rachel's devices..."

  "Someone has to." More black fluid trickles down my face. "The Church is still out there, still monitoring. If they see any weakness in the containment..."

  "Then they'll try again. But they won't be able to try anything if you burn out completely."

  He's right, but what choice do I have? The entity keeps pushing, testing, learning. Adrian helps maintain the artificial quantum fields when he can, but his unstable state makes his assistance sporadic at best. And Rachel's devices weren't designed to handle this kind of prolonged dimensional interface.

  I check readings again, trying to ignore how the numbers shift between multiple possible states. The containment holds, but only through constant adjustment, constant balance between natural and artificial methods. Every time I relax even slightly...

  The device chimes a warning as reality shudders. Black fluid wells up faster as I reach out, working to stabilize quantum frequencies that want to spiral out of control. My consciousness stretches across dimensional interfaces, trying to maintain too many connections at once.

  "Stop." James rises, fighting wave of motion sickness as he leaves his protective field. "You need a break. Need to let your quantum state stabilize before..."

  "Before what?" The words come out sharp with harmonics that shouldn't exist. "Before I fragment like Adrian? Before I lose control completely? Before..."

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Another wave of dizziness, stronger this time. Reality warps visibly as my natural sensitivity fluctuates. James staggers back into his dead zone as probability trails become too complex to process.

  The black fluid flows freely now, not just from my face but from my palms, my feet - anywhere consciousness interfaces directly with physical form. It moves with terrible purpose before sinking into my flesh, leaving traces of impossible geometries written in my skin.

  "This isn't just dimensional bleed anymore," James says quietly. "You're starting to... to leak through yourself. Like your consciousness is trying to exist in too many states at once."

  He's right. The darkness behind my eye pulses with frequencies I can barely control. Every time I reach out to maintain the containment fields, more of my quantum state bleeds through normal dimensional boundaries.

  The device's displays fragment into multiple possible readings as my perceptions start to overlap. I see the motel room as it is, as it might be, as it exists in other dimensional states - all simultaneously, all demanding attention.

  "I need..." The words trail off as reality shifts again. More black fluid wells up, moving with patterns that mock normal space-time. "I need to maintain... to keep everything..."

  "You need to rest." James moves toward me despite his damaged perception. "Need to let your consciousness stabilize before you tear yourself apart trying to hold everything together."

  But I can't rest. Can't let go. The entity keeps pushing, testing, learning. The Church keeps watching, waiting, planning. Adrian's artificial methods need constant guidance to prevent reality from fragmenting completely. And Rachel's devices weren't meant to handle this much quantum interference for this long.

  Another warning chime as containment fluctuates. I reach out automatically, trying to stabilize dimensional interfaces that grow more unstable with each adjustment. Black fluid drips onto the floor, forming patterns that suggest geometries that shouldn't exist before sinking into the material of reality itself.

  "Vesper." James's voice seems to come from very far away. "Your quantum signature is becoming critically unstable. If you don't stop..."

  The words fade as consciousness stretches too thin across too many states of being. I feel myself starting to blur at the edges, natural sensitivity trying to compensate for maintaining too many dimensional connections simultaneously.

  The device screams warnings I can barely process. Reality ripples as my control slips further. The darkness behind my eye pulses with frequencies that resonate through multiple quantum states at once.

  "Can't... can't let go..." More black fluid flows as consciousness strains against physical form. "Have to maintain... have to..."

  The world fragments into overlapping possibilities. I see James through too many dimensional layers simultaneously - his form steady in the dead zone while probability trails show every possible state he might occupy. See the motel room existing in multiple configurations at once. See reality starting to tear under the strain of too much awareness.

  "Enough." James moves to catch me as I stagger. "You're going to destroy yourself trying to hold everything together. The containment fields can handle themselves for a few hours. You need to rest. Need to let your quantum state stabilize."

  "But the entity..." My voice contains harmonics that shouldn't be possible. "The Church... Adrian..."

  "Will still be there after you rest. But you won't be any good to anyone if you tear your consciousness apart trying to maintain too many dimensional interfaces at once."

  He's right. The black fluid flowing from my body proves how unstable my quantum state has become. Every time I reach out to adjust the containment fields, more of my consciousness bleeds through normal dimensional boundaries.

  "Okay." The word barely sounds human anymore. "Okay. Just... just for a little while..."

  James helps me to the bed as reality continues shifting around us. The device's warnings slowly quiet as I stop trying to maintain constant connection with too many quantum states simultaneously.

  "Sleep," he says, carefully keeping his eyes closed against probability trails that still show too many possible configurations. "Let your consciousness stabilize. Let your quantum state settle back into natural patterns."

  The darkness pulses as I finally let go of the constant strain of maintaining multiple dimensional interfaces. Black fluid continues to well up more slowly now, marking my skin with suggestions of impossible geometries before sinking back into flesh.

  The device hums quietly as I drift into uneasy sleep, consciousness finally releasing its grip on too many layers of reality at once.

  Behind my closing eyes, black fluid traces patterns that shouldn't exist.

  Marking changes that may never fully heal.