The icy grip of the Carpathians had loosened its hold, but the chill of the Guardians’ power remained, a cold, pervasive dread that clung to Zayn like the mountain mist. The bunker was gone, erased, a testament to an enemy that wielded reality itself as a weapon. Zayn felt the system’s frantic alerts in his mind, a chaotic symphony of warning sirens. Temporal anomalies detected. Causality flux increasing. Deviation index critical. Recommend immediate withdrawal. Yet, withdrawal felt like surrender, a concession to forces that sought to unmake him, to correct his divergence from their predetermined path.
He looked at Scarlett, her emerald gown now stark against the muted gray of the jet’s interior, her usual composure visibly frayed. Her hand still rested on his forearm, a silent anchor in
