Kael's boots struck the corridor tiles in unsteady rhythm as the last echoes of the tremor died away. He rounded a corner and skidded to a halt beside Aya, who pressed her palm flat against the wall. Neither spoke—the corridor's lights still flickered in time with their quickening heartbeats.
A distant thrum vibrated through the floor beneath their feet, faint but insistent. Aya's fingers curled into the panel beside her, her knuckles white. Kael felt it, too: a cold pulse, as if someone had struck a tuning fork against his spine. Both of them tensed, breath ragged.
"No one's scheduled this sector," Aya whispered, eyes darting down the hallway.
Kael swallowed. "If not the Time Authorities… then who?"
She shook her head, tight-lipped. "I don't know."
Together they slipped out the side exit of the training wing, heads low, winding deeper into the base's underbelly.
A half-hour later
The entire crew gathered in the central hall—a vast circular chamber where chrono–anchoring pylons hummed softly in the walls. Jessa's mechanical arm clattered a dropped wrench back onto her table. Elrik's form flickered unnaturally between solidity and pale transparency. Mara's floating tome flipped its pages in reverse. Even Dex and Jax, usually calm, exchanged grim looks.
Aya stood at the center, clearing her throat. Kael stepped beside her, jaw tight, still feeling the pulse in his bones.
"We just felt something," Aya began, voice steady but low. "A vibration—throughout the base."
Jessa's eyes narrowed. "Like a quake?"
"No," Kael said, cutting in. "More like… time itself shivered."
A murmur swept the group.
Kura shoved his way forward, gaze hard on Kael. "Time's shivering because you dug your claws into it!" he snapped. "You broke every rule by jumping forward—now you've unleashed this on us."
Gasps rose. Kael's stomach flipped. Aya held up a hand.
"Kura," she said calmly, "we're not blaming each other."
Kura's jaw clenched. "Then we're lying to ourselves. He destabilized the forward barrier. He's the only one who could've—"
"He did what he did to survive," Aya interrupted, voice hard. She turned to Kael. "We need answers beyond the base. Stay together. Move as one."
Kura's glare shifted to her. She met it without flinching. "Fine," he said after a moment. "But if this is his doing—"
"It wasn't," Kael muttered, meeting Kura's eyes. "I didn't know. I swear."
Kura said nothing more, but his arms remained crossed, distrust etched into every line of him.
Aya stepped forward, shoulders squared. "We're forming a task force. Kael and I will track the source of that tremor. Kura and Jessa, secure our loopfields—keep them from bleeding into other sectors. Elrik and Dex, map any residual glitches. Everyone else, maintain normal operations. We can't let this cripple the base."
A chorus of assent rose. Kael felt both relief and the weight of responsibility.
He nodded to Aya. She gave him a tight smile—part reassurance, part warning.
Later, in the elevator shaft, Kael stood pressed against the wall alongside Aya and the others. The lift car had once served a long-since-abandoned metro line; now its worn metal walls bore posters of missing people—loopers last seen decades ago.
"Hold on," Aya said as she tapped her wrist device. The doors clanged shut.
The car hummed to life, descending. They passed through levels where the lights dimmed, then brightened, as if the base above them was uncertain whether to keep them safe or cast them into oblivion.
Halfway down, the elevator shuddered. It stuttered—a single beat backward, then forward again—before plunging the last dozen meters in a rush of air and steel.
Kael's heart pounded in his ears. Dex staggered, arms flailing; Jessa steadied him. Even Aya's knuckles went white on the rail.
When the car finally stopped, the doors hissed open to reveal a cavernous space. Dim lanterns lined ruined trackways, and beyond them, heavy blast-doors marked ECHO MARKET.
They stepped into semi-darkness. A low murmur of bartering voices drifted to them. Stalls crafted from scrap and driftwood held glowing loopkeys, chrono-toxins sealed in glass vials, and small devices that buzzed with imprisoned time. Hoods shielded vendors' faces; customers—some cloaked, some in tattered Authority uniforms—moved in deliberate, cautious paths.
Kael's eyes widened as he took in the bustling stalls. "I never imagined something like this existed—an entire market for anomalies. And all of us… there must be dozens of people like me out there."
Jessa leaned on her cybernetic arm, nodding. "More than you'd think. Some of them pay in tech, others in… rarer commodities." She swept her arm at the crowd. "We're only scratching the surface."
Elrik's form shimmered beside her. "I recognize half those faces from data fragments—runaways, defectors, even a few ex-Authorities."
Dex cracked a grin. "And that, my friend, is why you don't wander into unknown timelines alone."
Kura folded his arms. "Welcome to the real underworld of time." Then after Kael and Aya went separately from the group as everyone had their task
Aya gave Kael a steady look. "Stick close. Here, knowledge is everything—and everyone pays a price.Aya crouched by a vendor's stall. The trader's eyes glinted behind a hood. He ran his fingers over a loopkey—a jagged shard of translucent crystal. "Looking for protection from… tremors?" the trader rasped.
Aya glanced at Kael, then back at the trader. "Information," she said. "We need to know what caused a base-wide tremor in the core corridor."
The trader's breath steamed in the cold air. He studied Aya's face.
She reached into her pack and pulled out a small, silver loopkey fragment—one of the spares Kura insisted they keep stashed for emergencies.
The trader's hooded head tilted as Aya pressed the crystal shard into his gloved palm. "That's worth your weight," she said quietly.
He examined it by the flickering lantern light, then slid a data-chip across the stall's counter. Aya caught it in mid-air.
He pocketed the loopkey without a word. "Keystone," he murmured, voice low, "he murmured, voice low, "waits in the Rift. Seek the deepest fracture in time—and you'll find it."
Kael tugged Aya's sleeve. "Keystones?" she whispered back.
The trader tapped the loopkey. "Every fracture wants to heal or break. A keystone holds the fracture's shape. Without it, the whole thing falls apart—or bleeds."
Aya's gaze snapped to Kael. She remembered his first training session, how he'd synchronized the fracture itself.
Kael felt a chill deeper than the echo beneath his bones.
Before Aya could respond, Kura and Jessa appeared at her side. "We've secured three loopfields," Kura reported. "One more would've collapsed if left unchecked." He shot a cautious look at Kael. "He's bleeding it right here."
Kael swallowed, heart thudding.
Aya looked back to the trader. "Where can we find this keystone?"
The trader's hood tilted, voice low: "It waits in the Rift. Seek the deepest fracture in time—and you'll find it."
He vanished into the crowd, leaving behind a faint metallic scent and the murmur of illicit trade.
Aya exhaled slowly, tension radiating off her. "We need to find the Rift." She looked at Kael. "And you brought it here."
Kael's throat tightened. "I—I didn't know. But I'll fix it."
Aya met his gaze, eyes hard but not unkind. "Then we start by walking away from what we know, deeper into the fracture."
Kura gave Kael a long look, then nodded stiffly. "Lead on, forward-walker."
Kael clenched his fists—part determination, part dread. He took a step forward, the rest of the crew falling in behind him under the low, flickering lights of the Echo Market.
Somewhere ahead lay the Riftbound's domain. The keystone awaited. And time itself was watching.