Urgan herded the goblins toward the exit, ignoring their protests. The twins were chaotic but loyal—they wouldn't abandon their squad leader willingly. Skitters lingered longest, his yellow eyes unusually solemn.

  "Skitters see you soon, boss," he said, the statement half-question.

  "Count on it," Filu replied with more confidence than she felt.

  Alone with the failing containment field, Filu began the complex preparations for Protocol Omega. She inscribed a circle of runic symbols on the floor, each glyph pulsing with contained power as she completed it. The obsidian pyramid sat at the circle's center, its black surface drinking in the ambient light.

  Outside, Urgan would be establishing a security perimeter, ensuring no civilians remained within the danger zone. The facility had been largely evacuated when they arrived, but stragglers or curious onlookers might have returned.

  Five minutes into her preparations, Filu's comm activated again. "Unexpected development," Urgan reported. "Argent Shield operatives approaching from the north entrance. At least twelve, heavily armed."

  Filu's hands never paused in their ritual movements. "Can you delay them?"

  "Affirmative. But there's something else—we've captured someone claiming to be Prophet Ysedra. Says she has critical information."

  That was unexpected. The Resurgents' leader, here?

  "Keep her secured. I need three more minutes."

  The ritual circle now complete, she began the activation sequence. Her native tongue—a dialect not heard in millennia outside her mountain clan—flowed in cadenced syllables as she channeled power into the obsidian pyramid. Her tattoos blazed bright enough to cast shadows, raw magical energy streaming from her body into the ritual structure.

  The Pinpoint Rift responded violently, its containment field fracturing further. The void core expanded, tendrils of absolute darkness probing the surrounding air. Where they touched, reality shimmered and distorted—objects phasing through different states, light bending around impossible angles.

  Gunfire echoed from the facility's entrance. Urgan and the twins engaging the Argent Shield forces. Filu forced herself to focus on the ritual, knowing any distraction could prove catastrophic.

  "Final sequence initiating," she murmured, placing both hands on the obsidian pyramid. "Protocol Omega active in three... two... one..."

  The pyramid shattered beneath her fingers, obsidian shards hovering momentarily before dissolving into pure energy. The ritual circle ignited, runic symbols lifting from the floor to orbit the Pinpoint Rift in a complex three-dimensional pattern.

  For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then reality... folded.

  The space containing the Pinpoint Rift collapsed inward, dimensions compressing into a single point of infinite density. The sensation defied description—like watching a crucial portion of existence simply cease to be, leaving not emptiness but absence itself.

  Feedback slammed into Filu with physical force, knocking her backward. Her magic shield activated instinctively, absorbing the worst of the dimensional recoil. Even so, pain lanced through every cell as her body fought to reconcile with a reality that had been fundamentally altered.

  The chamber fell silent. Where the Pinpoint Rift had hovered, a perfect sphere of nothingness remained—not darkness or emptiness, but a complete absence of space-time itself. Already it was shrinking, reality gradually reclaiming the void as Protocol Omega completed its work.

  Filu struggled to her feet, steadying herself against her staff. Her tattoos had dimmed to barely visible traces, magical reserves critically depleted. But she was alive, and the immediate threat neutralized.

  Her comm crackled back to life. "Boss? Boss!" Skitters' panicked voice. "You alive?"

  "Affirmative," she croaked. "Status report."

  "We pushed back bad guys! Got prisoner! Coming to you now!"

  Filu steadied herself against her staff as she made her way toward the exit. Each step required conscious effort, her body drained from the immense magical exertion. Protocol Omega had worked, but the cost was steeper than she'd anticipated.

  She found her squad in a side chamber near the main entrance. Argent Shield operatives lay unconscious or restrained throughout the corridor—evidence of the twins' enthusiastic defense. Urgan stood guard over a kneeling woman in elaborate robes adorned with celestial symbols—Prophet Ysedra of the Resurgents.

  The prophet looked different from the confident zealot Filu had glimpsed in the warehouse. Her face was drawn with exhaustion, and something like doubt clouded her previously fervent gaze. She glanced up as Filu entered, her expression unreadable.

  "The device is neutralized," Filu announced, leaning heavily on her staff. "What is she doing here?"

  "Found her with Argent Shield team," Rakk explained, prodding the prophet with the flat of his cleaver. "She say she have important words."

  "She surrendered willingly," Urgan added, his tone suggesting suspicion. "Insisted on speaking with whoever was in charge."

  Filu studied the prophet carefully. "Speak then. Quickly."

  Ysedra's eyes darted between the squad members before settling on Filu. "You're destroying the purifiers," she said, her voice hoarse. "I saw the neutralization wave from outside."

  "We're preventing catastrophic dimensional collapse," Filu corrected. "Your 'purifiers' are weapons designed to destabilize Avalon's convergence points."

  "That's what I believed," Ysedra admitted, something like confusion crossing her features. "That they would cleanse Avalon of its unnatural convergence properties. Return souls to their proper realms." She paused, eyes lowering to the floor. "But something's wrong. The effects... they're not what Marcus promised."

  "Marcus?" Urgan prompted, shield still raised.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Metcom's security director," Filu supplied. "We encountered him at their warehouse facility."

  Ysedra nodded. "He approached our movement months ago. Said Metcom had developed technology that aligned with our beliefs—devices that could 'purify' Avalon's dimensional structure." Her voice wavered. "But I've seen the readings from the active devices. They're not separating realms—they're creating something else entirely."

  "A summoning array," Filu stated flatly.

  The prophet's head snapped up, eyes widening. "You know?"

  "We know your Resurgent movement has been manipulated. The Pinpoint Rifts are creating conditions for something to emerge from the Void Reaches."

  "Something dark," Ysedra whispered. "Something beyond my understanding." She seemed to be struggling with internal conflict, years of zealous belief warring with emerging doubt. "I've heard the technicians at other sites—they speak of 'the Fragment' in reverent tones. I thought it referred to a fragment of pure reality, but..."

  "It refers to Nai'hum," Filu said, watching the prophet's reaction carefully. "A Qliphothic entity."

  Recognition flickered in Ysedra's eyes, followed by something like horror. "The Old Texts mentioned such beings—enemies of existence itself. But I never believed..." She looked up at Filu, desperation replacing her earlier confidence. "If what you say is true, then we've been serving the very forces we sought to resist."

  "The Grand Terminus," Filu pressed, sensing genuine fear in the prophet. "What's happening there?"

  "The master device was installed yesterday," Ysedra revealed. "It's different from the others—larger, more complex. Lieutenant Orwin personally oversaw the installation, kept my followers at a distance." Her hands twisted in her lap. "When I questioned this, he said it was 'for our protection.' Now I understand it was to hide the truth."

  Filu exchanged glances with Urgan. This aligned with their intelligence—the Grand Terminus device serving as the focal point for the entire array.

  "You have information we need," Filu stated. "Specific details about the master device, security protocols, Argent Shield deployment patterns."

  "And why should I help you?" Ysedra challenged, though her voice lacked conviction. "Perhaps your interference is what will truly doom Avalon."

  Filu summoned her remaining strength, drawing herself to full height. Her tattoos flickered briefly with residual power. "Look outside, Prophet. See what your 'purifiers' are doing to Avalon."

  Urgan hauled the woman to her feet, leading her to a nearby window. The view made Ysedra gasp audibly.

  The sky above Avalon had torn open, a swirling vortex of darkness centered over the Grand Terminus. Reality itself seemed to warp around the breach, buildings and streets rippling like mirages in desert heat. Citizens fled in panic as impossible phenomena manifested throughout the district—gravity reversing in localized pockets, objects phasing between different states of matter, ghostly duplicates of structures overlapping with their solid counterparts.

  "That is not purification," Filu said quietly. "That is unraveling. The complete dissolution of everything in this realm."

  Ysedra stared in horror, her religious certainty crumbling visibly. "This can't be what was intended. We sought to free souls from false existence, not... this."

  "Yet this is what you've enabled," Urgan rumbled. "Through blind faith and zealotry."

  The prophet flinched as if struck. For several moments, she stood in silence, watching the city she'd sought to "purify" begin to disintegrate under forces she'd helped unleash.

  "The master device," she finally said, her voice barely audible. "It has seven-fold redundant security measures. Conventional weapons cannot damage it. Even dimensional containment would fail—it's designed to adapt to counterforces."

  "How is it controlled?" Filu asked.

  "Through a specialized interface that requires Chandler's biometric authentication. She alone can deactivate it." Ysedra turned from the window, her expression hardened by new resolve. "But I know the security rotations, the facility layout. I know which areas are vulnerable."

  Filu's comm unit activated. "Squad Two, report status immediately." Zark'thul again, a new urgency in his usually impassive voice.

  "Sir, the water facility Rift was neutralized via Protocol Omega. We've captured Prophet Ysedra, who has critical intelligence on the Grand Terminus device."

  "Bring her. The situation accelerates beyond prediction. All squads converge on the Grand Terminus immediately."

  "The prophet claims the master device can't be conventionally neutralized."

  "Correct," Zark'thul confirmed. "It requires... specialized intervention. The kind only I can provide."

  Something in his tone sent a chill through Filu's spine—a resonance beyond human speech patterns that hinted at powers yet unleashed.

  "Understood, sir. En route."

  Filu turned back to Ysedra, who watched her with wary curiosity. "You're coming with us to the Grand Terminus."

  "As a prisoner?" the prophet asked.

  "As an informant," Filu corrected. "Your knowledge may prove valuable in preventing complete dimensional collapse."

  For a moment, Ysedra seemed to weigh her options. Then, with a resigned nod, she accepted. "I served what I believed was Avalon's greater good. If I was wrong, I at least owe the truth."

  "Skitters, bind her," Filu ordered. "Secure but comfortable. She's cooperating."

  As they prepared to depart, Filu took stock of her depleted squad. The twins bore minor injuries from their skirmish with Argent Shield, while Urgan's shield showed scorch marks from void weapons. She herself could barely stand without her staff's support, magical reserves critically low after implementing Protocol Omega.

  Yet they had no choice but to continue. The Grand Terminus awaited, and with it, the final confrontation that would determine Avalon's fate.

  Their transport rose quickly above the water facility, accelerating toward the heart of Avalon. Ysedra sat silently between Urgan and Skitters, her gaze fixed on the growing dimensional anomaly above the Grand Terminus.

  "What exactly is your employer planning?" she finally asked Filu. "What 'specialized intervention' can possibly counter what's happening?"

  Filu considered her response carefully. "That's not for me to reveal."

  "He's something else, isn't he?" Ysedra pressed, a hint of her former perceptiveness returning. "Something beyond conventional understanding. I've sensed it in the Tower's operations—patterns that speak to knowledge no human organization should possess."

  "Focus on what you can contribute," Filu deflected. "The Grand Terminus layout, security patterns, vulnerabilities."

  Reluctantly, the prophet began detailing what she knew—access codes, patrol rotations, structural weaknesses. The information was comprehensive, suggesting she'd been deeply involved in the facility's preparation despite being kept from the master device itself.

  "One thing more," Ysedra added as they neared their destination. "Lieutenant Orwin isn't what he appears to be either. In private meetings, I've heard him speak of 'the Harvester's blessing' and refer to Chandler as 'the Vessel.' I believe he serves something beyond Metcom or Argent Shield."

  Filu filed this information away. It aligned with intelligence from Squad One about connections between Argent Shield leadership and the Harvesters of Amrit cult.

  The transport banked sharply to avoid a flock of crystalline birds that certainly didn't belong in Avalon's skies. Reality was fragmenting, pieces of other dimensions bleeding through as the breach expanded.

  "Squad Two to Tower Control," Filu communicated. "En route to Grand Terminus with informant. ETA four minutes."

  "Acknowledged," came Elspeth's response. "Squad One proceeding from Anatheum Institute. Zark'thul awaits your arrival."

  "Grand Terminus status?"

  "Critical. Dimensional breach expanding beyond containment parameters. Argent Shield forces have established a perimeter around the facility."

  As they approached the Grand Terminus, the dimensional distortions intensified. The transport's navigation systems struggled to maintain course, reality shifting unpredictably around them. Below, the streets of Avalon had emptied as citizens sought shelter from the inexplicable phenomena engulfing their city.

  Through the chaos, Filu glimpsed another transport on a parallel course—Squad One, arriving from the Anatheum Institute. For the first time since their deployment to Avalon, the two squads would converge in a joint operation.