Ezra returned to Nonna’s house for Quarantinemas, but this time, something felt different. The air was still warm with the scent of home—cooked meals, wood-burning stoves, the gentle hum of holiday music drifting through the walls—but Ezra wasn’t really here. Not entirely. His body sat at the dinner table, but his mind was buried deep in the blueprints stuffed inside his luggage.

  Julie noticed first. Of course she did. She always did. She knew when Ezra was being Ezra and when he was pretending to be Ezra. And right now? He was pretending.

  It didn’t help that Adam was more aware this year. He was talking—barely—but enough to notice when his father wasn’t paying attention. At dinner, the little boy would tug at Ezra’s sleeve, babbling incoherent toddler phrases that demanded a reaction. Ezra would force a smile, nod along, ruffle his son’s hair. But Julie? Julie watched the whole thing with a frown.

  "You’re here, but you’re not here," she finally said when they were alone in their room that night.

  Ezra hesitated mid-motion, peeling off his sweater. He sighed. "Jules, I—"

  "Don’t." She shook her head. "I know that look. It’s the same look you had st year. And the year before that. You’re still chasing something, aren’t you?"

  Ezra didn’t answer. Because yes. Yes, he was.

  The ECHO wasn’t enough. He had made something that could rewind time in fragments—bits and pieces, like flipping through an old VHS tape, moving the picture but never stepping outside of the screen. But he needed more than that. A real solution. A real path forward.

  And Clover—goddamn Clover—had all but told him exactly what he wanted to hear. That Haru might still be out there. That if Ezra kept looking, if he didn’t stop, if he just kept digging—he might find him.

  Julie exhaled, sitting at the edge of the bed. "I know you won’t tell me everything," she admitted, voice softer now. "But tell me something. Anything."

  Ezra ran a hand down his face. He sat next to her, resting his elbows on his knees. "Jules," he murmured, his voice tired. "If you had a way to bring someone back—just one person—but it meant risking everything, would you do it?"

  Julie was silent.

  Then—"No."

  Ezra gnced at her, brow furrowing slightly. "No?"

  She looked him dead in the eye. "I’d want to. God, I’d want to," she whispered. "But some things—some lines—you don’t cross."

  Ezra’s throat tightened.

  Julie took his hand, squeezing gently. "I don’t know what you’ve found, Ezra. And I don’t know what you’re pnning. But whatever it is—just… don’t lose yourself in it. Please."

  Ezra swallowed hard. He nodded. But deep down? He wasn’t sure if he could promise her that.

  The headaches came back. Not the ordinary, stress-induced ones. The other kind. The kind that felt like someone was hammering nails into his skull, whispering nonsense in a nguage he couldn’t quite grasp.

  Ciarra noticed. She always noticed.

  "You look like shit," she told him bluntly one night. Ezra gave her a tired gre.

  "Thanks, Auntie."

  She took a slow drag from her peace pipe, exhaling zily. "You having dreams again?"

  Ezra froze. Ciarra smirked at his expression. "Thought so."

  They were out in Nonna’s backyard, sitting on the old wooden bench, the snow crunching under their boots. Ezra exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "I don’t know what they are," he admitted. "Visions. Hallucinations. Maybe I’m just finally going insane."

  Ciarra hummed. "Insanity is just another way of seeing things differently," she mused. "What’s got you spooked?"

  Ezra hesitated. "There was a door."

  Ciarra raised a brow. "A door?"

  Ezra nodded slowly. "It was in the core," he said, recalling the dream—no, the vision—that had been pguing him for weeks. "I walked through it, and on the other side…" He clenched his jaw. "It was a city. No, a ship. A massive ship."

  Ciarra’s expression flickered. Just for a moment. Then she masked it with another zy exhale of smoke. "And?"

  Ezra studied her closely. "And I think I saw him."

  Ciarra didn’t ask who. She already knew. "Are you sure?" she asked instead.

  Ezra’s pulse was pounding. His head ached. But he nodded. "Yeah," he whispered. "I’m sure."

  For a long moment, Ciarra said nothing. Then, she reached into her coat pocket. Pulled out something small. A sleek, familiar-looking device.

  Ezra’s breath caught. It was a phone. Just like his. Just like Haru’s. Just like the one she cimed was old. Ciarra turned it over in her hands, inspecting it with a quiet, knowing gaze. Then she tossed it into Ezra’s p.

  "You’re getting too close," she murmured. "If you keep going down this road—" She took another slow drag, letting the silence stretch. "—you’d better be prepared for what’s on the other side."

  Ezra stared at the phone.

  At the device that shouldn’t exist. At the mystery wrapped in the skin of his own family. His own blood. And for the first time in a long time— He was afraid.

  Ezra shook his head, shoving down the thoughts cwing at the edges of his mind. Enough of this bigger-than-him mumbo jumbo. Enough secrets, enough headaches. "Alright," he announced, cpping his hands together. "Who’s hungry? I say we go get pizza!"

  Nonna raised an eyebrow from her rocking chair. "Pizza? From a restaurant?"

  Ezra smirked, already grabbing his coat. "Italians have a way with pizza, Nonna. Let’s see if the legends are true."

  Julie giggled. "I mean, you do have a white card."

  Ezra shrugged dramatically. "Might as well get some perks out of it."

  Nonna waved her hand dismissively, but the fond smile on her face gave her away.

  The pizzeria was small, nestled in the heart of town, a pce Seth used to take Ezra to when he was little. But this time? This time, the pce was theirs. A few other cars still passed through the snowy streets—essential workers and stubborn locals—but inside, it was just them.

  The family huddled in a cozy booth near the window. A warm fire crackled in the corner, filling the space with golden light. The smell of dough, cheese, and fresh herbs filled the air.

  Adam was in love with the pizza. Not just love—he was in war with it. His little hands waged battle against the slice, sauce smearing across his cheeks as he babbled nonsense and tried to feed pieces to Ezra. Julie, always the doting mother, pulled out her phone and started recording.

  "Adam," she cooed, ughing as the toddler held out a half-chewed, utterly massacred piece toward Ezra. "Give Daddy some pizza!"

  Ezra grimaced pyfully, looking at the mushy offering. "Buddy… uh, that’s real nice, but I think you should finish your—"

  Adam didn’t take no for an answer. He shoved the bite toward Ezra’s lips.

  Julie burst out ughing. "Oh, come on, babe. He made it with love!"

  Ezra sighed dramatically before taking the tiny, soggy offering. "Mmm," he hummed, chewing with an exaggerated nod. "Delicious. Just how I like my pizza. Half-eaten and covered in baby drool."

  Nonna chuckled from across the table. Seth, his cough softened by the warmth of the meal, smirked as he wiped his own mouth with a napkin. "Atta boy, Adam. Make your old man suffer."

  Ezra stuck his tongue out at Seth before taking a real bite of his own slice. The warmth of the cheese, the crisp of the crust, the tang of the sauce—it was perfect. For the first time in what felt like forever, Ezra felt normal. Felt present.

  Then—A loud screech.

  Ezra’s chewing slowed. A bad feeling slithered into his gut.

  The moment he looked out the window, he knew.

  A truck. An SUV. A red light. One driver didn’t see it.

  The crash was instant. A deafening impact of metal against metal. The truck smmed into the SUV’s side, sending gss, debris, and twisted steel flying onto the snow-covered streets.

  The restaurant went silent. Julie gasped, covering her mouth. Adam, sensing something was wrong, looked up in confusion.

  Ezra’s fork cttered onto the pte. He was already standing.

  "Ezra?" Ciarra’s voice was quiet, cautious.

  But he was already moving. The cold bit through his jacket as he stepped outside, snow crunching under his boots. The sounds were muffled, like the world had been put on mute—except for the single, heart-wrenching sound of a woman screaming.

  Ezra turned the corner. And saw it. A mother. Wailing. Her hands cwing at the mangled wreck of the SUV. And inside—Jesus Christ. Ezra barely held back his bile. He staggered back. The child in the backseat… His head. The truck driver wasn’t moving. Blood painted the interior.

  No. No.

  Ezra ran back into the restaurant. His hands fumbled into his coat pocket, tearing out the ECHO device. Ciarra stood, eyes locked onto him, her face pale. Everyone was watching. The whole family. The restaurant owner. The cooks. Strangers frozen in their seats.

  But Ezra didn’t care.

  He burst back onto the street, rushing to the SUV. "MOVE!" he shouted at the mother. She barely registered him, her eyes wild with grief, but Ezra grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back.

  She fought him at first. "MY BABY—"

  "TRUST ME!" Ezra barked, eyes fierce.

  He climbed into the driver’s seat. Hands shaking. Pulse hammering. The ECHO clicked in his grip. He smmed his thumb down on the button.

  -BWOMP-

  Time snapped backward.

  The air around the SUV shimmered, reality folding in on itself. The wreckage reversed, blood retreating into wounds, shattered gss stitching itself together, steel unbending, metal groaning back into pce. The SUV rolled backward, undoing the st thirty seconds of horror.

  And just as the timeline stabilized—Ezra hit the brakes. The SUV screeched to a halt, inches from where the truck whizzed past, missing them entirely. Ezra exhaled shakily. The world snapped back into motion.

  A small, confused voice piped up from the backseat. "M-Mom?"

  Ezra turned. The kid—whole. Alive.

  The mother stood outside, eyes wide, tears frozen on her cheeks. She staggered forward, hands over her mouth. Then—She colpsed to her knees, sobbing. Ezra opened the door. The woman rushed past him, yanking the door open and pulling her child into her arms. She wept into his hair, kissing his face, rocking him back and forth.

  Ezra stood there, breathless. Shaking. His stomach churned violently—and then it happened. The lunch he had just eaten violently reversed back into his stomach. Ezra barely had time to turn away before vomiting onto the pavement. Jesus Christ. That was not a fun side effect.

  The world was silent around him. He wiped his mouth, stumbling a little, blinking back the nausea. Then—movement. He turned his head. The entire restaurant was watching.

  Nonna. Seth. Julie, hands covering her mouth. Even little Adam, eyes wide with childlike wonder. The restaurant owner made the sign of the cross.

  Ezra’s legs felt weak. The mother pulled away from her son, rushing up to him, grabbing his hands. "Oh my God—Oh my God, thank you—thank you—" She hugged him before pulling back, checking her child again, unable to believe what had just happened.

  Ezra exhaled shakily. The kid was alive. And everyone saw.

  As the st remnants of the ECHO's pulse faded, Ezra’s body lurched forward, his stomach twisting into knots, the aftermath of reality bending around him like a noose tightening too fast. His knees buckled, and his hand shot out, gripping the SUV’s doorframe just in time to keep himself from hitting the pavement.

  The nausea came hard and fast, his whole body rejecting the unnatural rewind it had just endured—his lungs burned, his pulse thundered in his ears, and for one terrifying second, he thought he might bck out. Then—Julie was there. A soft, steadying touch at his arm, firm but careful, grounding him as he struggled to regain his bance. "Ezra?" Her voice was hushed, but the worry was loud.

  Ezra breathed through the vertigo, blinking away the haze. He forced a smirk, shaky but present. "Okay, new rule," he muttered, swallowing thickly. "No pizza before time travel." Julie exhaled, half-ugh, half-sob, gripping his arm just a little tighter.

  After all the shock, after the restaurant’s silence stretched on for what felt like forever—Adam giggles.

  Julie, still covering her mouth, looks down at him. "Adam…?"

  The little boy points at Ezra with wide, bright eyes. "Da-da did magic!"

  Ezra, still recovering from the vomit situation, blinks.

  The whole restaurant erupts into nervous ughter.

  Seth lets out a sharp chuckle, shaking his head. "Hell, kid… you got no idea."

  Ciarra smirks from the side, arms crossed, her tail flicking in amusement. "That’s one way to put it."

  Ezra wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve, still feeling woozy. "Great. First time travel, now I’m a damn magician?" He sways slightly before catching himself. "That’s it. I’m sittin’ down."

  Julie rushes to his side, gently steadying him. "Yes, you are."

  The tension eases. The moment shifts from overwhelming to almost… surreal. And as the restaurant staff returns to work, murmuring in hushed, reverent tones, Ezra realizes—

  His secret isn’t so secret anymore.