Morning light crept reluctantly through the dusty motel curtains. Alexander blinked himself awake, pulse thumping painfully in his chest. His breathing was ragged. He had been trapped in the same nightmare—again.
Flashes of his wife's cold, lifeless body… their child's empty stare… the thunder of boots in the hallway… a faceless massacre. He sat up sharply, dragging shaky hands through sweat-drenched blonde hair.
> "Good morning, Alexander," NORA's voice came—soft, but direct, the mechanical smoothness never fully hidden beneath her calming tone. "Time: 7:23 AM. Date: March 16, 2021."
He pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to force the visions out. His senses were in chaos. The moment he tuned into his surroundings, they broke apart—hundreds of voices, not from the present but from… other places. Some speaking in ancient tongues, others in haunting, fractured echoes. Whispers from times long lost and futures that hadn't yet come to pass.
His hearing felt like a storm tearing through his skull.
"Why—" He winced, grounding himself with slow breaths. "Why am I hearing… everything?"
> "You are experiencing the onset of Temporal Instability Syndrome," NORA replied crisply. "T.I.S. is common in first-time uncontrolled time jumps."
Alexander grimaced, pressing his knuckles into his temples. "Explain it, clearly!"
> "When a subject breaches the time-stream without stabilizing safeguards, their neurological system becomes exposed to overlapping chronal layers," NORA explained. "Your mind is now… untethered. You are intercepting echoes of the multiverse, distant realms, fractured moments from history… and unstable futures."
"And this is permanent?" he demanded, gritting his teeth.
> "Not necessarily," NORA answered. "It can be controlled—managed."
His jaw tightened. "What do you have in mind?"
> "You require a Memory Anchor," NORA said. "A stabilizing force to shield your consciousness from the interference. It will focus your mind, recalibrate your senses, and block external distortions."
Alexander stood, rolling his shoulders, pain tugging at his ribs. "Why do I need it?"
> "Without it," NORA continued evenly, "your mental condition will degrade. Auditory hallucinations will worsen. Physical exhaustion will increase. Emotional stability will collapse… and you will become traceable through temporal signatures."
His expression darkened. "How long do I have?"
> "Two days, maximum," NORA stated flatly, then added with an uncharacteristic softness, "For your own safety, you need to move."
Alexander's throat felt dry as sandpaper, but he nodded once. He dressed quickly—black coat, shirt, trousers—masking his fatigue beneath a cold, composed exterior.
Downstairs, the diner attached to the motel smelled of stale grease and burnt coffee. Alexander settled into a booth in the far corner, letting the low murmur of breakfast chatter wash over him.
A waitress approached, early twenties, wearing a faded red uniform with a chipped name badge that read "Claire." Her ponytail was messy but her smile practiced.
"Morning. You look like you've been through hell," Claire said lightly, pouring him black coffee.
Alexander offered a tired smirk. "Something like that."
"What'll it be?"
"Eggs, sausage… and answers."
Claire blinked. "Excuse me?"
Alexander leaned forward, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers. "Have you… noticed anything strange lately? Power surges… people disappearing… strange lights at night?"
She hesitated, hand tightening on her notepad. "I… mean, there's always weird stories. We had this blackout two nights ago—knocked out the whole block. Some folks said they heard… whispers during it. Thought it was the wind, but…" She shrugged. "City life, you know?"
Alexander nodded, absorbing every detail. "Any strangers pass through here? Anyone asking questions like mine?"
Claire shifted, uneasy. "Maybe. Hard to say. This place… we get all kinds."
> "Minimal exposure. Good," NORA commented quietly in his ear.
Claire tapped her pen awkwardly. "Look, mister… you okay? You look like you ain't slept in a week."
Alexander straightened, his cold mask returning. "Thanks for the coffee."
Claire lingered a moment longer, then walked off.
Later, back in his room, Alexander gathered supplies—bandages, scraps of tech, small tools. His hands moved efficiently. No wasted motion.
> "Your recovery is in progress," NORA said. "But your body and soul are destabilized. First jumps damage foundational anchors. Healing takes time… but movement is necessary for survival."
Alexander adjusted his gloves, blue lines softly pulsing. "Where am I going?"
> "A realm beyond Continuum influence. Somewhere they cannot easily follow," NORA answered.
Alexander took a deep breath, standing in the center of the room. He focused—hands vibrating slightly as sound waves pulsed outward, merging with unstable temporal currents. A silver-blue portal began to form, swirling violently.
His breathing hitched.
Among the fractured noise, a voice slithered through—a woman's voice, clear, chilling.
> "The fall of the Continuum… you… Wraith… destiny beckons beyond the chains of time."
Alexander's heart slammed against his ribs. "What… what was that?"
> "No time," NORA interrupted sharply. "Open the portal. Now. I'll explain later."
Instinct pushed him forward. He leapt through, the portal sealing behind him.
But a crack thundered through the room just moments later.
Another rift tore itself open—silent and lethal. A figure stepped through, her silhouette unnaturally graceful, predatory.
Black hair framed a marble-pale face. Dead black eyes, devoid of light, scanned the empty room. She wore a dark coat, armored at the shoulders, silver chains curling down to her gloves—one hand resting over a skull-shaped relic at her hip.
Her movements were smooth, precise—like a hunter measuring her prey from scent alone.
Her lips parted, her voice hollow but calm.
> "Located him… Grand Maester… awaiting further orders."
A slight smile flickered at the corner of her mouth—a smile absent of warmth.
Cipher had arrived.