By midday, the fault line rose before them like a wound in the earth.
A vast裂—kilometers long—split the plain, its depths glowing faintly with slow-moving light. Massive stone bridges arched across it, some whole, others broken, suspended at impossible angles.
Beyond the裂 stood the city.
It wasn't hidden by walls or cloaking fields.
It was hidden by irrelevance.
Buildings of layered stone and metal rose in uneven tiers, patched and rebuilt countless times. Streets twisted at odd angles, refusing neat grids. Nothing about the city drew the eye—no symmetry, no dominance, no obvious center.
Eris felt it immediately.
"This place doesn't want to be noticed."
Kaelion nodded. "Exactly why it survives."
As they crossed the bridge, Eris noticed people watching from doorways and rooftops. Faces wary, curious, hardened by loss. Some bore faint scars that glimmered briefly when they moved—signs of temporal displacement.
The displaced group walked faster now, hope creeping into their steps.
At the gate—more a suggestion than a structure—an older man stepped forward, flanked by two guards carrying compact energy pikes.
"Halt," the man said. His eyes flicked to Kaelion's blade, then to Eris. "State your purpose."
Kaelion inclined his head. "Transit and refuge. These people were erased."
The man studied them for a long moment, then sighed.
"Of course they were," he muttered. "We'll take them."
The displaced group let out a collective breath.
As they were guided inside, the man turned his attention fully to Eris.
"You," he said. "You don't belong to any timeline I recognize."
Eris hesitated. "I'm just passing through."
The man smiled thinly. "So is everyone who survives."
He gestured for them to follow.
Inside, the city hummed with quiet life. Markets operated without signs. Children played in alleys that subtly changed direction when you weren't looking. Technology and magic blended seamlessly, patched together from salvaged futures.
"This is Drift," the man said. "The city that slipped through time."
Eris glanced around. "How does it stay hidden?"
"It doesn't resist erasure," the man replied. "It complies just enough to be overlooked."
Kaelion folded his arms. "You still maintain records."
The man snorted. "We tried not to. But memory is rebellion."
They stopped at a circular plaza where a shallow pool reflected the sky—but the reflection lagged a second behind reality.
The man turned to Eris.
"You made the land settle," he said. "You brought them here."
Eris shifted uncomfortably. "I just didn't want to leave them."
The man nodded slowly. "That's how it starts."
Kaelion watched carefully. "Starts what?"
The man's gaze sharpened.
"People choosing each other over systems."
He extended a hand to Eris. "Name?"
"Eris."
The man's grip tightened just slightly.
"…Interesting."
He released Eris's hand and stepped back.
"You're welcome in Drift—for now. But know this: the moment the Watchers decide you matter too much…"
He glanced at the sky.
"…this place becomes a target."
Eris met his gaze. "Then we won't stay long."
The man smiled—this time genuinely.
"No one ever does."
Somewhere above the city, probability bent away.
Not broken.
Avoided.