The wasteland's violet sky pulsed with an unnatural rhythm, casting a sickly glow over the rusted warehouse where Tylor and his group caught their breath. The temporal stabilizer hummed faintly in Tylor's backpack, its weight a constant reminder of the choice ahead—save the timeline or risk erasing their present. Amaira clung to his side, her pigtails streaked with dust, the journal page with the map to the Hub tucked safely in her pocket. Kayla's green eyes scanned the shadows, her dark hair tangled, her mind heavy with the fracture's vision of a past where Amaira never vanished. Lila, her leg bandaged but her resolve unbroken, leaned against a crate, her rifle ready. Elias, his grizzled face etched with exhaustion, guarded the entrance, his pipe stained with enforcer blood.
"We're close to the Hub," Kayla said, studying the map's jagged lines under a flickering solar lamp. Her voice was steady, but her dreams—vivid glimpses of this broken world and the Chronarch's face, so like Tylor's—haunted her. "Maybe a day's walk, if we avoid the drones."
Tylor nodded, his hazel eyes flickering to Amaira. The fracture's image of her laughing, safe, in a world untouched by loss gnawed at him. Could he give her that life, even if it meant losing their present? The Chronarch's words—I built this future to save her—echoed, twisting his guilt. "We stick together," he said, his voice firm. "No more splitting up."
Amaira's small hand tightened on his. "Like before?" she asked, her voice trembling with memories of her captivity two years ago, hidden by their father. Tylor knelt, brushing ash from her cheek. "Never again, Mai. I promise."
Before Kayla could respond, the air shimmered, a low hum filling the warehouse. A fracture tore open near the rusted walls, its edges rippling like liquid glass. Through it, Tylor saw a laboratory—sterile, bright, filled with scientists in white coats, the Chronos Collective's spiral symbol on their sleeves. A woman with Tylor's hazel eyes—his mother—stood at a console, her voice sharp as she argued. "The fractures are unstable!" she shouted. "We're tearing reality apart!" A man, his face obscured, dismissed her. "Progress demands risk, Elena."
Tylor's breath caught, his mother's name a blade in his chest. Amaira gasped, clutching the journal page. "That's Mom," she whispered, tears welling. Kayla's eyes widened, her own mother's name—Sarah Vey—on the journal's list. She stepped closer, her voice low. "My mom's there too. Look." A woman with Kayla's sharp features stood in the background, her expression conflicted, slipping a disk into her pocket as the argument raged.
The fracture pulsed, the scene shifting to chaos—alarms blaring, scientists fleeing as fractures split the lab. Sarah Vey turned, her eyes locking on Kayla's through the rift, as if sensing her. "Kayla," she mouthed, before the image flickered. Tylor's mother stayed, sealing a door, her face resolute. "We can't let it spread," she said, her voice echoing across time.
Kayla's hand trembled, grabbing Tylor's arm. "They knew," she said, her voice breaking. "My mom betrayed the Collective. She took something—data, maybe—to stop them." Her dreams, she realized, weren't just visions; they were memories leaking through the fractures, tying her to her mother's rebellion.
A drone's hum shattered the moment, its red eye piercing the warehouse's gloom. "Trespassers!" it blared, beams slicing through the walls. Elias swung his pipe, shattering a drone, but more swarmed in, enforcers in metallic suits behind them. "Go!" Lila shouted, firing her rifle, her injured leg buckling. Tylor grabbed Amaira, sprinting for a back exit, but a beam ignited a fuel canister, the explosion throwing them apart.
Tylor hit the ground, ears ringing, Amaira's scream fading into the chaos. Smoke choked the air, and he scrambled up, calling her name. Kayla's voice cut through, hoarse. "She's with me!" But as he turned, he saw only Lila, dragging herself toward him, Elias fighting off enforcers at the entrance. Amaira and Kayla were gone, swallowed by the smoke and the fracture's fading light.
Tylor's heart pounded, the memory of Amaira's disappearance two years ago crashing over him. "No!" he roared, lunging into the haze, Lila grabbing his arm. "You'll die out there!" she snapped, her scar stark against her pale face. "We'll find them, but we need a plan."
The fracture flickered out, its echoes—his mother's warning, Sarah Vey's betrayal—lingering in Tylor's mind. The stabilizer's hum pulsed in his pack, a lifeline and a threat. Amaira and Kayla were out there, in a world breaking apart, and the Hub was their only hope. With Lila's grit and the ghosts of the Collective guiding him, Tylor vowed to find them, even if it meant facing the Chronarch—his future self—again.