Chapter 883
Celeste was in a white room, staring at the wall. Without her schemes, she looked small — diminished, like a fire reduced to embers.
“You came,” Celeste said, without turning around.
“What is Chronos?” Skye asked.
Celeste turned. Her scars were fading slightly, but her eyes were wild.
“You think you’re special, don’t you?” Celeste laughed softly. “Because you remember.”
Skye’s breath caught. “Remember what?”
𝗧rе𝗇𝖽𝘪𝗇𝗀 n𝗈𝘷e𝘭𝗌 o𝘯 𝗴a𝗅ոo𝘷𝗲𝘭𝗌.c𝘰𝘮
“The life before,” Celeste whispered. “The pain. The death.”
Skye took a step back. “How do you know about that?”
“Because I saw the data streams,” Celeste said. “The Mastermind — he isn’t just building an empire, Skye. He’s building a prediction engine. A quantum computer so powerful it can map every variable of the future.”
“A computer?” Skye frowned. “What does that have to do with me?”
“He calls it a simulation,” Celeste said, her voice beginning to tremble. “Because to him, we are just data points. But the gems — they are the keys to the core. He used them to manipulate the probability field. Your rebirth wasn’t a miracle, Skye. It was a reset. A rupture in the timeline caused by the machine’s activation.”
The room seemed to tilt. “You’re saying he turned back time?”
“He tried to optimize the outcome,” Celeste said. “But you — you were the variable he couldn’t predict. The glitch. And now he wants to wipe the slate clean again.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because he discarded me,” Celeste said, tears filling her eyes for the first time. “He treats us like code to be deleted. I want you to burn his machine.”
Skye studied her in silence. “Who is he?”
“I can’t say his name,” Celeste shivered. “But he’s watching. He’s always watching.”
She pressed a crumpled piece of paper into Skye’s hand.
“Elysium Island,” Celeste whispered. “That’s where the core is. Go there. Break the cycle.”
Skye walked out of the hospital with the paper burning against her palm.
She sat in her car for a long moment, watching the rain streak down the windshield.
If Celeste was right, then her second chance wasn’t fate. It was a war against a man who believed himself to be God.
She pulled out her phone and dialed Alistair.
“We need a boat,” she said. “We’re going to Elysium Island. And tell Liam to meet us — we might find the kill-code for his implant there.”
The journey to Elysium Island took three days. It was a speck on the map — uncharted, hidden deep within the storm belt of the Pacific.
Skye stood on the deck of the yacht, watching the grey horizon.
Alistair wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. “You’re distant.”
“I’m scared,” Skye admitted. “What if he resets it again? What if we lose everything?”
“He won’t,” Alistair said, pressing a gentle kiss behind her ear. “Because we have the keys.” He turned her around and kissed her — deep and slow — grounding her in the present.
“Land ho!” Felix shouted from the bridge.