Kael moved with renewed purpose.
The Third Gate had changed him—not just in body, but in soul. The gauntlet on his arm no longer whispered; it sang. Not in words, but in emotions—clarity, precision, echoes of memories not his own. The name the blind woman in the glass garden had spoken echoed in his mind: Unbroken.
They had returned to the ruins of a derelict fortress on the outskirts of the Dronamar Wastes. Veyr led the way now, guiding them with unspoken familiarity. Whatever trust Kael had begun to build with him was fragile, but real.
Toran sat by the fire, sharpening a blade forged from Riftsteel. "So, what now? We've closed a Gate. We've survived a Warden. Where do we go from here?"
Seris answered first. "We find the Fourth Gate. And we pray the next trial doesn't kill us."
Veyr shook his head. "You're all thinking too linearly. The Sovereign doesn't play by the rules of time. He's already spreading influence across multiple timelines. If Kael is truly Unbroken, that makes him more than just a survivor. He's a thread the Sovereign can't untangle. That makes him dangerous."
Kael looked up. "Then we strike first."
Veyr narrowed his eyes. "It's not that simple. You can't fight something that exists across multiple dimensions with swords and shields. The Sovereign's strength lies in manipulation—control. He doesn't conquer worlds, he infects them."
Seris leaned forward. "Then what do we do?"
Veyr reached into a satchel and produced a small black shard. Unlike the Rift Crystals, this one pulsed with a hollow, rhythm-less beat.
"This is a piece of a dead Gate. There are more like it scattered in the Riven Archives of Old Darakar. If we collect enough fragments, we can locate the Source Node—the point of origin where the Sovereign began breaking the dimensional walls."
Kael stood. "Then that's our goal. Find the shards. Reach the Source Node. Stop him."
---
Their journey took them north, through the Verdant Scar—a place once untouched by Rift corruption but now slowly decaying under the creeping influence of Garmon radiation. Nature here looked vibrant from afar, but up close, it was sick. Trees bled sap that shimmered like oil. Animals with glassy eyes roamed in endless circles, caught in time loops.
At a shattered outpost along a broken riverbed, they encountered resistance.
A foreign faction—humanoids, dressed in angular black armor, their faces obscured by geometric helms—stood between them and the Archive Gates. They called themselves The Foreign Vigil. Kael recognized the insignia carved into their breastplates: an open eye crossed with a blade. He had seen it once, on the corpse of a villager who'd vanished decades ago.
The leader stepped forward, voice crackling through a voicebox. "Kael of the Gauntlet. You are known to us."
Kael drew his weapon. "Then you know I don't run."
The figure tilted their head. "That is why we were sent to test you."
Without warning, three Vigil warriors lunged.
Kael's body moved faster than his thoughts. The gauntlet sparked, shielding one blow and redirecting another. He ducked, spun, and drove his blade into the side of the third attacker.
Seris launched a flurry of spectral arrows, forcing the others to retreat, while Toran charged into melee, roaring with fury.
But it was Kael who ended the fight.
He didn't mean to. The gauntlet reacted on instinct.
As one of the Vigil raised a blade, Kael shouted—and a ripple of invisible force exploded from his hand. The enemy was thrown back, armor shattered, body limp.
Everyone went still.
Kael stared at his hand. "What... was that?"
Veyr stepped closer, watching him with new intensity. "You channeled a distortion wave. That's not a common ability—not even among the Awakened. It's tied to causality. You didn't push him. You pushed the moment he was in."
Kael's fingers trembled. The power hadn't just erupted—it had felt natural.
"I didn't even try."
"Exactly," Veyr said. "You're evolving. The Gauntlet doesn't just hold energy. It stores potential. You're tapping into the memory of reality itself."
---
They entered the ruins of Old Darakar under a sky choked with ash. Towers leaned at impossible angles. The Archive Gates loomed at the heart of the city—ancient rings of stone and metal fused by Garmon eruptions.
Seris lit a flare crystal. "The Archives should be below us."
They descended through broken cathedrals and shattered halls until they found it: a massive underground library carved into the bones of the earth. Endless shelves. Flickering glyphs. The air shimmered with temporal static.
Kael walked slowly among the ruins. The Gauntlet pulsed with recognition.
Then, from a collapsed chamber, they heard a scream.
Rushing in, they found a girl—no older than thirteen—trapped beneath a fallen beam. Her skin shimmered faintly. Not Garmon-burned, but marked.
Kael lifted the debris. She stared up at him, eyes wide. "You're like me."
Seris knelt beside her. "Who are you?"
"Name's Ryssa," the girl said. "I came looking for my brother. He was taken by the Spiral. They hunt kids like me. Like you."
Veyr's face darkened. "The Spiral Syndicate... damn it. They were supposed to be wiped out."
Kael helped the girl stand. "Why do they hunt you?"
"Because we remember," she said. "I see things that haven't happened yet. Sometimes, I live them before they happen. They said I was unstable. So they tried to erase me."
Kael understood. Whatever Ryssa had... it was part of what made her Awakened. Like him.
"You're coming with us," he said.
---
That night, they made camp near the archive vault. Kael sat with Ryssa while the others rested.
She looked up at him. "You don't know what your ability is yet, do you?"
Kael shook his head.
Ryssa nodded slowly. "Mine started with dreams. Then it became feelings. Now, sometimes I blink and I've already done things I haven't done yet. Like now—I knew you'd say yes before you even spoke."
Kael smiled faintly. "Must be hard."
"Sometimes," she said. "But not tonight. Tonight feels... right."
He glanced down at the gauntlet. The silver surface had changed again—new lines, new symbols.
He was becoming something else. Someone else.
Not a mistake. Not a survivor.
A chosen weapon.
---
At dawn, Veyr stood before the vault.
"We found what we needed," he said, holding up a crystalline map composed of Rift fragments. "The Source Node lies beneath the ruins of Elarion. But it's guarded. Not by a Warden... but by the Sovereign's Echo—a fragment of his will, sent ahead to destroy Unbroken before they reach their potential."
Kael stepped forward.
"If this is the path," he said, "then we walk it. Even if it kills us."
Veyr smiled. "That's what makes you Unbroken."
Kael turned to Ryssa. "Are you ready?"
She nodded, determination in her young eyes.
"Then let's end the infection. One Gate at a time."