I spent two days recovering from closing the portal. Two days where my consciousness slowly knitted itself back together while my body lay in bed, too exhausted to move.
Andrea checked on me constantly, her worry visible in every glance. But she didn't push for answers anymore. Just left food and water within reach and made sure I was still breathing.
On the third day, I finally felt strong enough to sit up. To check my phone and see what I'd missed while recovering.
Seventeen news alerts. All from the past forty-eight hours.
My stomach dropped as I read them.
Three suicides in the warehouse district. Two disappearances near the docks. A cluster of people reporting severe depression and memory loss in the suburbs.
The Harvester hadn't stopped. Hadn't even slowed down.
If anything, t
