Chapter 127
The now-familiar beeps wake me up again.
My throat is raw and scratchy. My body weighs a thousand pounds, limbs heavy and uncooperative as I try to push myself up, but it’s still better than the dream I just had.
Something’s off. The air is too still, too warm. The fan’s off.
I grope for the light beside the bed, clicking the switch. Nothing. Power’s still out, as expected.
The gentle patter of rain against the metal roof fills the silence—still storming then. But underneath that steady rhythm, there’s something missing. No shuffling of little feet. No whispered conversations between the kids. No soft breathing from Pip beside me.
Pip.
My heart slams against my ribs as I pat the bed around me. Empty. “Pip?” My voice cracks. The darkness offers no answer, just a hollow silence that screams wrong wrong wrong.
Then—faintly—laughter. Children’s voices from outside the camper, muted by distance and rain.
They’re outside? In this strange storm? Alone?
Adrenaline floods my system and I bolt upright, my head spinning from the sudden movement. My legs tangle in the sheets as I scramble toward the bedroom door, toward the sound. One foot catches, and I stumble forward, pitching headfirst into the narrow hallway.
The world tilts as I tumble down the small stairwell, my shoulder slamming into the wall, knee cracking against the floor. Pain bursts white-hot behind my eyes. I land in an ungraceful heap at the bottom, bruised and disoriented.
I push myself up onto my hands, ready to crawl if I have to, when—
“Stay where you are, Finn. Lily, hold onto Pip for me p>
Asher’s voice cuts through my panic like a knife—deep, commanding, but oddly gentle. The single anchor in a world gone sideways.
My wild heartbeat stutters, then slows. I freeze, hands pressed against the cool floor, and force myself to breathe. One deep inhale. One shaky exhale. They’re not alone. Asher’s with them. They’re safe. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.
I pull myself to my feet, wincing as I brush dirt from my palms and rub at my throbbing knees. My gaze drifts to the wall-mounted solar panel monitor, and I blink, confused by the display. The battery percentage is dancing erratically, flashing impossible numbers—394 712 1046%—too high to be real.
Without thinking, I smack the display with my palm. The screen goes black, then flickers back to life with more reasonable numbers. 57%. Not great, but not impossible.
I wonder how long I’ve been asleep.
The lights flicker on overhead a moment later, and the blessed hum of the air conditioner follows. I exhale in relief as cool air starts to circulate.
A bottle of water and a few desperate swallows later, the cool liquid soothes my parched throat. It doesn’t do anything for the lingering unease clinging to me like second skin, though. I shiver violently in this humid heat.
That dream… it felt too real. The man with the shifting face, talking about Order and Balance and Chaos like they were people. The sensation of power crawling through my veins. The way the world just… disappeared.
The beeping starts again, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s not the monitor—it’s silent, just displaying numbers like a silent sentinel of electricity use. I follow the sound, eyes scanning the small space until they land on my phone lying on the dinette table.
It’s not a sound the device has ever made before.
The screen pulses with light. I pick it up, frowning at the unfamiliar notification banner splashed across the lock screen.
[Divinity App (Restricted): 2 new notifications p>
What the hell? I don’t remember downloading anything like this. Maybe it’s one of Echo’s weird apps? That would make sense. It probably synced to my phone somehow.
I swipe it open, curiosity overriding caution, and throw a mental apology her way. I’m not probing. I’m just… investigating. Yeah.
The interface is sleek. A minimalist black background with glowing white text and shimmering silver icons. Three tabs glow at the top: DMs, Urgent Requests, and Warnings.
Under Warnings, a notification:
[PLAUSIBILITY WARNING: Intrusion Detected: Mortal Presence within Divine Plane]
I blink, stunned. What the actual hell? I tap the notification, but it only expands to show the same message with no further explanation.
My finger hovers over the DMs tab, hesitating before I press it. A single message appears:
[CHAOS: Good to meet you, my sweet little anchor. Tell Echoelle I miss her p>
The air leaves my lungs in a rush, and I’m dizzy.
Chaos. Chaos is who I met in my dream? And he’s connected to this strange app, and it was real?
This can’t be real. It has to be some elaborate prank, or a weird glitch, or—
[CAUSALITY WARNING: Breach of Divine Integrity p>
The newest notification pops up as I’m still staring at the screen.
[WARNING: An Anchor-class anomaly has enabled CHAOS-thread intrusion beyond permitted thresholds. Divine boundary integrity compromised.
Unauthorized Entity: CHAOS
Event Cascade: ACTIVE
Temporal bleed risk: ELEVATED
Convergence trajectory: UNSTABLE
Current Timeline Viability: 71%
Recommended Action:
â–ª Cease further resonance with CHAOS-thread
â–ª Await Balance intervention]
There are even three buttons at the bottom. Two are greyed out, though.
[Acknowledge] [Suppress Warning (Locked)] [Request Guardian Support (Unavailable p>
Oh, I get it. I’m dreaming. It must be a dream within a dream. Now it all makes sense.
Panic slithers away and I suck in a deep, humid breath, smiling at the ceiling with relief. Yeah. This is just a dream. I’ll just crawl back into bed and go to sleep and wake up properly—
The RV door slams open so hard it bounces against the wall. Asher bursts in, rain-soaked and wild-eyed, scanning the space until his gaze locks onto me. The tension visibly drains from his shoulders.
My hand spasms on my phone.
“Violet.” Just my name, exhaled like a prayer.
Before I can respond, he crosses the small space in two long strides and pulls me into a fierce hug, arms banding tight around me. For a heartbeat, I melt into it, the solid warmth of him a comfort against the lingering chill of fear—
Until something under my skin reacts. A faint pulling, like something’s leeching out of me and into him. Echo said this is dangerous.
I gasp and shove him away with all my strength. “No touching p>
Asher goes completely still, hands raised, body rigid with shock. He backs away immediately, giving me space, but his eyes never leave my face. The silence stretches between us, taut and uncomfortable.
When he finally speaks, his voice is low and cautious.
“You’re awake p>
“I am—oh.” The sudden sound of rain against the roof disappears, and I glance out the window. “It stopped raining p>
The sun’s come out.