Elias drove the van in silence. Sam sat in the passenger seat, a tense statue staring out the window. The teenager kept glancing at Elias, then at the dashboard, then at his own hands. The knuckles were scraped raw.
"You're wondering if you made a mistake," Elias said, his eyes on the road. The streetlights painted his face in streaks of yellow and shadow.
Sam jumped at the sound of his voice. He turned, his hands moving in quick, sharp signs. Who are you? Why did you do that?
Elias kept one hand on the wheel and signed back with the other, his movements slower, less fluid. "I told you. I know what comes next. And I know what you can become."
Become? I'm nothing. I'm a deaf kid everyone hates.
"Not tomorrow," Elias said, his voice flat. "Tomorrow, the world breaks. The things people hate you for now—your silence, the way you watch things others miss—they will become weapons. They will make you a ghost who can walk through hell. I'm just giving you the map."
Sam stared at him, his young face a battlefield of fear, anger, and a desperate, kindling hope. You talk like a crazy person.
"Good," Elias said. A grim smile touched his lips. "Sane people are going to die first."
He pulled the van into his storage unit lot. The door rattled open under the single, buzzing fluorescent light. The space was now packed high with crates, bags, and equipment. It looked like the stockroom for the end of the world.
Sam's eyes went wide. He got out of the van slowly, walking into the unit as if entering a church. He touched a crate labeled MEDICAL - STERILE. He looked at the pallet of water jugs, the racks of tools, the generator.
You… you really believe it, Sam signed, turning to Elias. The last of his skepticism was crumbling under the sheer, overwhelming proof of preparation.
"I don't believe. I know." Elias walked to a small camp table he'd set up. On it was a laptop, a radio scanner, and his notebook. "Sit. We have work to do."
Sam pulled up a crate. Elias opened the laptop. He navigated to a live global news feed. For now, it was all normal. Weather, politics, sports. A clock in the corner of the screen ticked down.
Seventeen hours, twenty-two minutes remaining.
Elias turned on the radio scanner. He tuned it to a frequency most people never used, the civilian emergency band. Static hissed. Then, a broken, official-sounding voice cut through.
"…repeat, all units, we have multiple reports of… unexplained neurological episodes in the downtown sector. Suspected gas leak or… mass hysteria. Requesting additional…"
The transmission cut to static.
Sam's eyes were locked on the scanner. He couldn't hear it, but he could read the fear on Elias's face. He pointed at the machine and raised his eyebrows.
"It's starting," Elias said, signing along. "Small things. The System's energy is leaking into our world. It's affecting people's minds. Some get happy. Some get scared. Some just… break. By tonight, it will be on the news."
As if on cue, the news anchor on the laptop screen paused, putting a hand to her ear. Her professional smile faltered. "We… we're getting breaking news now. There are unconfirmed reports of widespread disturbances in several major European and Asian cities. Officials are urging calm, citing possible… coordinated cyber-attacks or atmospheric anomalies. We'll bring you more as it develops."
Elias turned the volume up. Sam watched the anchor's lips, his face pale.
"See?" Elias said. "They don't know what it is. They'll call it terrorism, or a virus, or solar flares. They'll lie to prevent panic. But the panic is coming anyway."
He picked up his personal phone. It was blowing up with notifications. News alerts. Messages from old classmates asking, "Are you seeing this?" One text stood out.
It was from Lena.
Lena: I'm on I-25. Traffic is awful. There's some weird news on the radio. People acting crazy in Denver. Is this part of your "emergency"?
Elias typed back, his fingers cold.
Elias: Yes. It's the first sign. Do not stop. Do not get out of the car. If someone acts strange near you, lock your doors and drive away. Come straight to my apartment. I'll be there soon.
He looked at Sam. "I have to go meet someone. You stay here. This place is safe. For now." He handed Sam the burner phone he'd used to text Aris. "This has one number in it. Mine. If anything happens, if anyone comes here who isn't me, you text that number one word: BREACH. Understand?"
Sam took the phone, nodding. He looked around the storage unit, this strange fortress of boxes, then back at Elias. What do I do?
"You learn," Elias said. He grabbed a laminated map from the table, the topographic map of the Front Range. He unfolded it and pointed to a spot. "This is where we are." He pointed to another, a complex of old government buildings near the mountains. "This is where we're going tomorrow. It's called Site Bravo. You're going to memorize every road, every river, every ridge between here and there. Because when everything goes dark, you're going to be the one who leads us."
He placed the map in Sam's hands. It was a test. A purpose.
Sam looked down at the map, then back up at Elias. His fear was still there, but it was being pushed aside by something else: focus. He gave a sharp, determined nod.
Elias left him there, sitting on a crate under the harsh light, already tracing routes with his finger. A scout was being born.
The drive to his apartment was through a city that was still mostly ignorant, but with a new, nervous energy. More sirens than usual. People on their phones on street corners, talking fast. Elias saw a man laughing hysterically on a bus stop bench, tears streaming down his face, while others gave him a wide berth. An early Mana-joy reaction.
His apartment building felt like a tomb. He took the stairs two at a time, his body protesting. He burst into his empty apartment just as his phone rang.
It was Leo.
"Elias." Leo's voice was tight, all business. No more questions. "The news. Is this it?"
"It's the pre-shock," Elias said, looking out the window. The city lights glittered, innocent. "The main event is tomorrow at 3:07 PM. Are you ready?"
"I've got Mia and my wife, Sarah, packed. Van is loaded with my tools, some supplies. I've got my old hunting rifle and what ammo I have. We'll be at your garage at 3 PM like you said." He paused. "My sister's family… they laughed at me. Won't come."
Elias closed his eyes. He remembered this pain. The pain of choosing who you could save. "You can't save people who don't want to be saved, Leo. Not yet. Secure your core. That's your wife and daughter. That's your mission. Everything else comes after."
A heavy breath on the line. "Yeah. Okay. See you in hell, Commander."
The word—Commander—sent a jolt through Elias. Leo had given him the title. Not as a joke. As a fact.
He hung up. The clock ticked.
Twelve hours, five minutes.
A key scratched in the lock. The door swung open.
Lena stood there, duffel bag in hand, her face flushed with anger and fear. She looked like their mother. The resemblance was a physical blow.
"Elias, what the hell is going on?" she demanded, throwing her bag down. "The highways are a mess. I saw a woman just… dancing in the middle of an intersection! People are saying it's terrorism, or some kind of poison—"
"It's not poison," he said, cutting her off. His voice was calm, which seemed to infuriate her more. "Sit down."
"No! You tell me what's happening right now! What did Mom really say? This has nothing to do with her, does it? You lied to me."
He met her furious gaze. "Yes. I lied."
The admission stunned her into silence.
"Mom didn't say anything," he continued, his voice low and relentless. "I lied because you wouldn't have come if I told you the truth. And you needed to come."
"The truth? What truth?" she shouted.
"Tomorrow afternoon, the world ends," he said, the words simple and terrible. "Not with a war or a bomb. With a change in the rules. A… a system will appear. People will get powers. Monsters will come out of holes in the air. Cities will burn. The government will fall in hours. You, in Colorado Springs, will die trapped in a parking garage two days from now, calling my name."
Lena stared at him. Her anger drained away, replaced by a slow, creeping horror. "You're sick," she whispered. "You need help."
"I need you to trust me for the next twenty-four hours," he said, stepping closer. He grabbed her shoulders. She flinched. "Just twenty-four hours. If I'm wrong, I will check myself into the nearest hospital. I will pay for your therapy. You can never speak to me again. But if I'm right… you will be in the safest place in the state, with me."
Tears welled in her eyes. "How can you know this? How?"
"I can't explain that yet. All I can give you is proof." He let her go and walked to the TV. He turned it on, flipping to a 24-hour news channel.
The screen showed chaos. Grainy cell phone footage from London of people screaming, some lying on the ground twitching, others floating a few feet in the air, glowing with strange light. The chyron read: GLOBAL PSYCHOGENIC PANDEMIC? EXPERTS BAFFLED.
"This is the proof," Elias said, pointing at the screen. "This is the crack before the dam breaks. By morning, this will be every channel. By noon, there will be riots. And at 3:07 PM, the crack becomes a canyon."
Lena sank onto the bare sofa, her hands over her mouth, watching the world begin to unravel on the screen. The fight was gone from her. Only shock remained.
"Pack anything you have left here," Elias said, his tone softening just a fraction. "We leave for the final location at dawn. We sleep here tonight. I'll take the floor."
"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice small.
"To a mountain. To a hole in the ground. To the only place that will be ours." He walked to the window, looking out at the twinkling, doomed city. "To the future, Lena. For better or worse."
He felt the familiar throb begin in his temple. The pressure. He glanced at the black TV screen, and for a second, he didn't see his reflection.
He saw the silver, fractal shape of the Null-Chronicler, motionless in the space behind him in the glass.
He spun around. Nothing. Just the empty apartment.
But the pressure in his head spiked, a sharp, warning pain.
[Chronicler's Paradox Integrity: 97.8%]
It was dropping. The timeline was hardening. His window was closing.
He had his sister. He had his core team. He had the Seed.
Now, he just had to survive the last night of the old world, and the first day of the new one—a day he remembered in perfect, horrific detail.
He looked at Lena, who was now crying silently on the couch, and felt the immense, crushing weight of the truth he carried.
He had told her she would die. He had not told her that in his memory, her last words were, "I'm sorry I didn't believe you, Eli."
He turned away, the memory a fresh wound. The night stretched ahead, long and dark and full of the sound of a world holding its breath.