Yesh Institute
Lakefront metropolis'
United Continent of America
Terra, Tellus solar system
January 2019
The battlefield stretched beyond the horizon, a graveyard carved into the earth itself. Corpses lay scattered in grotesque arrangements—some piled atop one another in tangled heaps, their decaying flesh fused together by dried blood and rot, the stench thick enough to cling to the air like a suffocating fog. Others lay alone, swallowed by vast pools of crimson that spread across the ground like dark, glistening lakes, reflecting a sky that no longer seemed to belong to the living.
At the center of it all, she walked.
Each step was slow, deliberate—her emerald armor dulled by ash and streaked with blood not entirely her own. The edge of her greatsword dragged behind her, its weight carving a jagged line through the soaked earth, the metallic scrape echoing faintly in the silence. No wind stirred. No voices remained. Only the aftermath.
She stopped before a mound of bodies.
For a moment, she did not move.
Then—recognition.
Familiar faces stared back at her through lifeless eyes. Soldiers who had once stood at her side. Voices that had laughed, shouted, believed. She had led them—into battle, into fire, into this.
Into death.
Her grip tightened slightly on the sword's hilt, but she didn't lift it. There was nothing left to fight.
Only to witness.
Her gaze lingered, tracing the stillness of those who would never rise again. And slowly, something twisted within her—not grief alone, but something deeper, more corrosive. A quiet, suffocating revulsion.
Not at the battlefield.
At herself.
Sam jolted awake.
Her breath hitched as if she had been dragged out of deep water, her body tense, her mind still echoing with the fading remnants of the nightmare. A dull ache pulsed behind her eyes, phantom pain threading through her skull like lingering aftershocks.
She blinked, forcing the haze to clear.
The world returned in fragments—light, sound, the steady hum of machinery.
As she pushed herself upright, her gaze caught on a figure slumped across from her. For a split second, her heart skipped—then steadied as recognition settled in.
Rosa.
Sam turned her head slightly. Rosa sat beside her, no longer clad in combat gear but dressed in a Golden Dawn tactical jacket—deep red layered with streaks of orange, the fabric creased from wear. She leaned back in her chair, arms loose, breathing steady, the tension of battle replaced by exhausted stillness.
Alive.
Sam exhaled, a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Her eyes drifted around the room.
Sterile white walls. Sleek panels of unfamiliar machinery. Soft blue lights pulsing along interfaces she couldn't even begin to understand. The equipment surrounding her hummed with precision—advanced, refined… far beyond anything the ordinary world had access to. This wasn't just a medical room.
It was something else entirely.
The door slid open with a quiet hiss.
Footsteps followed.
Rosa stirred instantly, her body reacting before her mind fully woke. Her eyes snapped open, sharp and alert, locking onto the figure entering the room.
"Ah! I see you're both awake," Dr. Dingle said, his voice light but edged with relief.
"Doc…" Sam's voice came out rough, her throat dry. "What happened? Rosa—"
"Easy now, young one," Dr. Dingle interrupted gently, stepping closer. "Your mana circuits are still recovering from the overload. You pushed them far beyond their limits."
Sam winced faintly as she shifted, now aware of the soreness running through her body—not quite pain, but a deep, strained fatigue that seemed to sit beneath her skin.
Mana circuits.
The unseen pathways woven throughout a Mystic's body—channels through which mana flowed, fueling every technique, every ability, every act that defied the natural laws of the world. Invisible, yet essential. Fragile, yet powerful.
And hers had nearly broken.
Sam was one of the few on the planet who could truly be called a Mystic—like all members of the Golden Dawn—individuals who had stepped beyond the boundaries of ordinary existence.
Mystical Artists.
Beings capable of wielding mana… and of seeing beyond the Grey—the invisible veil that cloaked the supernatural, hiding the true nature of the world from those who lived blind within it.
"What about the mission?" Sam asked.
The question came out sharper than she intended.
Rosa and Dr. Dingle exchanged a brief glance—subtle, but not subtle enough. Sam felt it immediately. The shift. The hesitation. Their emotions brushed against her awareness before either of them spoke—unease, relief, and something heavier beneath it.
Worry.
Her mind caught it instinctively.
"We secured the artifact," Rosa said after a moment, her tone steady, though the tension beneath it hadn't fully faded. "The one that appeared in the Indiana cornfield. It was contained before the Grey could destabilize."
Sam's gaze narrowed slightly, her thoughts already moving ahead.
Hours ago, something had changed.
Across the world, artifacts—ancient, unknown, and brimming with Odic resonance—had begun to manifest without warning. Not within the Hidden World, not within the layered safety of the Grey where mystics operated unseen…
…but in the open.
In the mundane world.
A breach of that scale wasn't just rare—it was dangerous.
The Grey existed for a reason. It was the veil, the boundary that separated the supernatural from ordinary reality. If it fractured—if even a single artifact fully revealed itself to the public—the consequences would ripple far beyond containment.
Golden Dawn had responded immediately.
They always did.
Guardian units were deployed within minutes, barriers erected to isolate each site, suppressing visibility, distorting perception—anything to keep the truth buried. Sam had pushed to be part of the response, despite still recovering from her previous mission.
She hadn't hesitated.
She never did.
Not when it came to this.
Not when it came to why she joined in the first place.
"When the Monolith activated," Rosa continued, her voice tightening slightly, "it released a surge of Odic energy. That's what drew them."
Sam's fingers curled faintly against the edge of the bed.
Mystic beasts.
"More of them kept coming," Rosa said. "Stronger ones. Faster. We were already stretched thin, and then—"
She stopped for a fraction of a second.
"You were down," she finished more quietly. "You had just been knocked out by the energy wave. After that… we were on the verge of being wiped out."
The words settled heavily in the room.
Sam didn't look away.
"If Master Emani hadn't intervened…" Rosa added, exhaling slowly. "We wouldn't be sitting here right now."
A brief silence followed.
Sam's eyes lowered, her thoughts tightening around a single name.
"Master…" she murmured. The word wasn't just a title. It carried weight—history, expectation… and something unresolved beneath it.
Master Emani was no ordinary Guardian. She was the daughter of the two leaders of Golden Dawn—a legacy born into power—and one of the highest-ranking protectors of the planet itself. Among Mystics, her name carried weight. Authority. Fear.
To Sam, she was something more.
She was the one who had found her.
The one who had brought her into this world.
"Where is she?" Sam asked.
The question came fast, almost too fast.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, muscles protesting as she pushed herself upright. The room tilted slightly, but she ignored it.
Dr. Dingle immediately stepped forward, shaking his head.
"Oh, no, girl. Not happening," he said firmly. "You need to lie back down. Your body hasn't stabilized yet. Your core—"
"I don't care."
The words cut through him.
There was no hesitation in her voice. No room for argument.
"Sam…" Rosa started, her tone softer, trying to ground her—
A sharp alarm shattered the moment.
Red lights ignited across the room, pulsing violently. A piercing tone followed, urgent and unrelenting, echoing through the walls.
Dr. Dingle cursed under his breath. "What is it now?"
Sam and Rosa locked eyes.
No words were needed.
They moved.
Sam was already on her feet despite the strain, Rosa close behind her. Dr. Dingle hesitated for half a second before following, muttering complaints as he kept pace.
The hallway outside had transformed into chaos.
Golden Dawn personnel rushed past in tight formations, voices overlapping, commands being barked across comm-links. The calm precision from moments ago had fractured into urgency.
Something was wrong.
"What's going on?" Rosa grabbed one of the passing workers by the arm, stopping him mid-stride.
He turned sharply, irritation flashing across his face—until he recognized the insignia on her sleeve. The shift was immediate.
"It's Code Delta," he said quickly, pulling free before rushing off.
Rosa's expression hardened.
Code Delta.
Not containment.
Not suppression.
Escalation.
Sam didn't wait. She broke away, already moving down the corridor toward the central sectors. Rosa followed without question, Dr. Dingle trailing behind as best he could.
They were inside the Yesh Institute—on the surface, a cutting-edge biomedical research facility. To the outside world, it was a place of innovation and healing.
In truth, it was a front.
A veil layered over Golden Dawn's operations within the mundane world.
They reached the elevator. The doors slid open instantly, already responding to the emergency override. The ride up was silent except for the distant echo of alarms reverberating through the structure.
When the doors parted again, the command center unfolded before them.
Rows of analysts sat locked into place, eyes glued to holographic displays and cascading streams of data. Screens flickered with shifting coordinates, energy readings, and distorted visual feeds—some stable, others breaking apart into static.
The air itself felt tense, like something was pressing down on the room.
At the center stood a woman facing a massive projection screen. She turned the moment they entered, startled enough to let out a small, sharp sound.
"Dr. Dingle—good, you're here," she said, pushing her glasses up as she steadied herself.
"Misha," Dr. Dingle replied, already moving forward. "What's happening?"
Misha swallowed, her fingers tightening around her tablet as she glanced back at the screen.
"The Odic concentration just spiked," she said, her voice tight. "Across multiple sectors—but this one…"
She gestured toward the largest display, the one within the Lakefront metropolis. The readings weren't just high. They were climbing. Rapidly.
"It's still increasing," Misha said.
"What about the Grey?" Dr. Dingle asked.
That was the only question that mattered.
As long as the Grey remained intact—stable, unbroken—then whatever anomaly they were facing could still be contained. The veil had to hold. It had to. The moment humanity became aware of the truth… there would be no controlling what came next.
"The Grey is still stable, but…" Misha hesitated.
"But what?" Dr. Dingle pressed, stepping closer.
He didn't wait for her to finish.
His eyes scanned the data streaming across the display—and the color drained from his face.
His heart stuttered.
"That thing… the Monolith…" Misha said, her voice tightening as she struggled to keep up with the incoming readings. "It's still generating Odic energy. At a level far beyond anything we've ever recorded. It's not stabilizing—it's escalating."
Her fingers trembled slightly over the console.
"At this rate… it won't be long before—"
The world lurched.
A violent tremor ripped through the building, cutting her off.
The floor heaved beneath them, throwing several analysts off balance as a deafening rumble tore through the structure. Screens flickered wildly, some bursting into sparks as the systems overloaded. A sharp, jagged crack split across the polished floor, racing outward like a living thing as the foundation groaned under the strain.
Shouts erupted.
Equipment toppled.
The entire facility shook as if something beneath it had begun to awaken.
And yet—
Amid the chaos, Sam moved.
Quietly.
Deliberately.
Drawn by something she couldn't ignore.
She stepped toward the window, each movement steady despite the trembling world around her. Rosa followed close behind, her expression tightening as she tracked Sam's focus.
Outside…
The sky had changed.
What should have been a clear expanse was now churning with unnatural motion. Waves of light rippled across the clouds in shifting hues—violet, gold, and pale blue—bleeding into one another like a living aurora. Lightning arced through the atmosphere, not in simple strikes, but in branching patterns that seemed almost… deliberate.
Watching.
Reaching.
The city below flickered under the storm's glow, caught between shadow and something far more otherworldly.
And then—
Sam felt it again.
That melody.
Faint at first… then rising.
It wasn't sound—not truly. It vibrated through her, threading into her thoughts, her pulse, her very core. A resonance she had felt once before… in the cornfield.
Now it was stronger.
Calling.
Her breath slowed as her hand moved instinctively, pulling back her sleeve.
The birthmark on her wrist burned.
Light pulsed beneath her skin, faint at first—then brighter, spreading in intricate patterns that hadn't been there before. It wasn't just reacting.
It was responding.
Rosa noticed. "Sam…?"
But Sam didn't answer.
Something shifted above her.
A presence.
She lifted her gaze.
And the moment her eyes locked onto it—
The world broke.
Not shattered.
Rewritten.
****
Bodies. Bodies. Bodies.
The battlefield was awash with death, a grotesque symphony of chaos. Warriors clashed, their weapons ringing like funeral bells, each swing a gamble for survival, each thrust a grim exchange of life for death. Blood pooled in uneven rivulets, soaking into the dirt like ink on a crumpled page, while severed limbs littered the ground like discarded refuse. The air was heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of charred flesh.
It was chaos—no, a marketplace of death. The push and pull of bodies mimicked the crowded frenzy of shoppers at rush hour, but instead of goods, the wares on offer were the fleeting moments between life and annihilation. Cries of pain and triumph intertwined, creating a haunting cacophony. In this grim bazaar, the vendor of fates stood tall: an emerald-armored girl with hair as green as a verdant meadow, her broadsword carving paths of death and salvation. Her blade was her ledger, and the price she exacted was steep.
A new sound emerged amidst the bedlam—a mechanical chime, cold and detached.
Gaea spell System interface initiated. Enlightened must awaken and walk the path of ascension!
****
"Sam! Sam! Sam!"
Her eyes snapped open, her breath hitching as reality crashed into her. She was on her back, slumped against a crystalline wall that glowed faintly with a soothing azure hue. Blinking rapidly, her vision focused on a face hovering above her—Rosa.
But Rosa was different now. Her black hair, usually loose, was tied into a tight bun, and her tall, lithe frame was clad in sleek, obsidian armor that gleamed under the faint light of their surroundings. Across her chest, the insignia of the Golden Dawn stood prominent: a rising sun flanked by crossed sabers. Rosa's expression was stern but laced with urgency as she grabbed Sam's hand, pulling her to her feet with surprising strength.
"Get up!" Rosa commanded, her voice cutting through the distant screams that filled the cave.
Sam's senses caught up, and she finally took in the chaos around her. They were no longer in the Yesh Institute, but somewhere within what looked like a cave. A cavernous expanse, its walls formed of jagged crystal that pulsed faintly as though alive. The terrain glowed with an ethereal blue light that cast eerie shadows on the ground.
Around them, the chaos did not stop. It spread. The citizens of Lakefront Metropolis had descended into a living nightmare. Civilians ran in every direction, their movements frantic, disordered—panic made visible. Their screams echoed against the towering crystalline structures, rebounding again and again until the air itself seemed to vibrate with terror.
Then the creatures came.
Massive ants—each the size of a warhorse—tore through the crowds in relentless waves. Their exoskeletons shimmered a deep, blood-red, polished like armor beneath the fractured light of the sky. Jagged mandibles snapped open and shut with sickening precision, each movement deliberate… efficient.
Hunting. One lunged forward, seizing a man mid-stride. There was a sharp crack. His body folded like brittle wood, bones giving way instantly as the creature crushed him without resistance. It dragged what remained across the ground, vanishing into the swarm without pause.
Others followed.
No hesitation. No mercy. Blood sprayed in violent arcs, splattering across the luminous pavement, turning it into a grotesque canvas of crimson and shadow. The metallic scent flooded the air, thick enough to taste.
Sam stood frozen. Her eyes locked onto the carnage unfolding before her. People were dying. Right in front of her. Her breath hitched. For a moment—just a moment—the present blurred.
The past surged forward. Memories clawed their way to the surface, sharp and suffocating. Screams she had heard before. Blood she had seen before. The same helplessness threatening to drag her under—
A hand seized her shoulder.
"Samantha!"
Rosa's voice cut through everything. Sam's head snapped toward her. Brown eyes met hers—steady, unwavering, commanding. There was no room for hesitation in them. No room for fear.
Only clarity. Only expectation. Sam inhaled sharply. Once. Deep. The tremor in her chest steadied as she forced the past back where it belonged—buried beneath discipline, beneath purpose.
She exhaled.
"Save lives," she said, her voice low but resolute. And then—
A voice echoed within her mind.
Work with me, and I'll give you the strength to save as many lives as you desire… Samantha McCoy.
Master Emani. The words didn't feel like a memory. They felt present. Anchoring. Strength surged through her, not explosive, but controlled—focused. Sam's hand moved to the bracelet around her wrist.
She tapped it.
Light unfolded instantly.
Emerald energy cascaded over her body, forming layer by layer into a suit of armor that locked into place with a sharp, resonant hum. The plating gleamed with a polished, almost living sheen, lines of energy pulsing faintly beneath its surface.
Her gauntlet expanded, reshaping itself with a mechanical precision that felt almost organic. Metal shifted, unfolded, and reinforced—transforming into the shielded gauntlet she favored.
Balanced. Defensive. Unyielding. She flexed her fingers. The armor responded. Sam lifted her gaze back to the battlefield.
This time—
She did not freeze.
Rosa was already in motion.
Her spear spun through the air in a seamless blur, its arc carving silver lines through space as she wove between the charging beasts. Each step was precise, controlled—her body moving with practiced efficiency as she intercepted the ants before they could reach the fleeing civilians.
Creatures like these were not meant to be fought head-on.
Mystic beasts possessed strength far beyond human limits—muscle layered with unnatural density, exoskeletons hardened by Odic exposure. Even Mystics like Sam and Rosa would struggle against them under normal circumstances.
But Rosa was no ordinary fighter.
Her weapon pulsed with enchantment, its surface etched with runic patterns that flared faintly with every strike. Each thrust carried more than force—it carried amplification, cutting through defenses that would otherwise hold.
She slipped past a snapping mandible, pivoted, and drove her spear clean through the joint of an ant's armored neck. The creature convulsed, collapsing instantly.
Sam moved with her.
No hesitation.
Her fist ignited with a veil of emerald energy, the aura tightening around her knuckles as she stepped into range. She struck—
—and the impact shattered the creature's head with a sickening crack.
Fragments of chitin burst outward.
The edges of her gauntlet flared, a concealed blade extending along its rim. As she followed through, the sharpened edge tore through the ant's outer shell, splitting it open as if it were paper rather than armor.
Another lunged.
Sam turned, drove her fist upward—
—and caved its skull in before it could complete the strike.
They moved in rhythm.
Rosa cutting paths.
Sam breaking through them.
One after another, the beasts fell—until the immediate swarm thinned, their bodies collapsing into twitching heaps across the blood-slick ground.
Silence didn't follow.
But the pressure eased.
For a moment.
Sam staggered slightly as the adrenaline began to fade.
A new wave of exhaustion crashed into her, heavier than before. Her breath grew uneven, her limbs heavier with each movement. The emerald glow around her gauntlet flickered, unstable.
She could feel it—
Her reserves were nearly gone.
Mana didn't simply return on command, not when her circuits had already been pushed to their limit. Every strike she had thrown, every ounce of energy she had forced through her body… it had cost her.
Now she was running on the edge of empty.
"Keep moving," Rosa said sharply.
There was no time to stop.
The civilians they had saved were already gone, scattering into the distance—using the opening Rosa and Sam had carved out to escape. Their footsteps echoed faintly, fading into the chaos beyond.
Sam nodded, forcing her body forward despite the strain.
They moved deeper into the cavern system, the walls narrowing as the path twisted ahead. The air grew heavier, thicker with the scent of blood and earth.
They turned a corner—
And Sam froze.
Ahead of them, three massive ants were already feeding.
A cluster of Yesh Institute researchers lay trapped against the far wall, their screams tearing through the confined space as the creatures descended upon them. Mandibles snapped down with brutal precision, slicing through flesh and bone without resistance.
One ant reared up, lifting a woman into the air.
She screamed—
—and then it bit down.
Clean.
Her body split in two.
The upper half fell with a wet, final thud.
The scream stopped.
Sam's body tensed, instinct screaming at her to move—to save them, to do something—
Rosa grabbed her.
Hard.
"Samantha—no."
Before Sam could react, Rosa stepped forward.
Her spear flared.
Dark energy coiled along its length, gathering at the blade's edge as she spun it once—clean, controlled, lethal.
Then she struck.
A single sweeping arc.
The air split with the motion.
Three heads separated from their bodies in the same instant.
The ants collapsed, their massive forms crashing to the ground, limbs twitching as their bodies failed to catch up with the death already dealt.
Rosa didn't pause.
She grabbed Sam's wrist and pulled her forward.
"Move!"
They ran.
Behind them, the screeches grew louder—higher, sharper, multiplied. The sound of chitin scraping against stone echoed through the cavern, the horde closing in.
Ahead, a narrow opening came into view.
Hope.
But it twisted into something else as they drew closer.
A bottleneck.
People crowded the entrance, desperation turning them feral. They shoved, clawed, and trampled over one another in a frantic attempt to escape. Fear had stripped away order, leaving only survival.
And survival… didn't care who got left behind.
"Out of the way!" Rosa yelled, her voice amplified by a burst of spiritual energy that sent a ripple through the air. The people hesitated, momentarily stunned, allowing Rosa to drag Sam through the chaos and toward the opening.
They emerged into blinding light. Sam shielded her eyes, blinking rapidly as her vision adjusted. When she looked again, she gasped. They stood on the edge of a vast crystal chasm, its walls shimmering with prismatic colors that danced in the light. Platforms of jagged crystal jutted out at odd angles, forming precarious pathways that crisscrossed the cavern. Below, an abyss stretched endlessly, its depths glowing with an ominous red light.
Behind them, the people poured out of the tunnels, many giving Rosa and Sam a wide berth as they fled. Sam turned just in time to see the last of the stragglers emerge, their faces contorted in terror. But their escape was short-lived. Before she could attempt to rush to them, Rosa held her still.
From the tunnel, the ants surged forward, their mandibles dripping with gore. They tore into the fleeing civilians, dragging them back into the darkness as screams filled the air. Sam's stomach churned, her knees threatening to buckle as she watched the massacre unfold.
It was too late for them
"They can't get through," Rosa said, her voice steady as she dismissed her spear with a faint shimmer of light. The weapon dissolved into glowing particles, vanishing as if it had never been there. She stood tall, her posture calm and composed, a stark contrast to what Sam was feeling.
"There's a seal that keeps them inside," Rosa continued, her tone brisk and almost impatient. "We just happened to transport inside their territory. Come on." She gestured toward a spiraling staircase carved into the side of what looked like a jagged mountain.
Sam hesitated for a moment, her eyes drawn upward to the cavern's massive ceiling, where enormous crystalline formations jutted out like jagged teeth. The crystals emitted a faint luminescence, painting the vast underground expanse in hues of blue and white. The scale of it was overwhelming, the ceiling stretching so high it seemed to merge with darkness. She followed Rosa down the staircase, each step bringing her deeper into this alien, underground world.
As they descended, the air grew cooler, damp with the scent of earth and minerals. Sam's gaze drifted to the people trickling out of the cave ahead. Some stumbled, their movements sluggish and uncoordinated, while others simply sat in silence, their eyes hollow and lifeless. It was more than just her fellow workers at the Yesh Institute. There were adults dressed in work uniforms, and others in casual attire, like they had been yanked from their everyday lives without warning.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Sam's breath caught. The space opened into a cavernous chamber, its floor scattered with enormous crystal boulders. Around these rocks, clusters of people sat or lay sprawled, many of them bloody and bandaged, their faces etched with pain. Some were murmuring, while others stared ahead, their expressions vacant. It was chaos and despair brought to life. Sam's heart clenched as she realized just how many people were here—hundreds, maybe more. It wasn't just the Yesh Institute. It felt like the entire city of Lakefront had been uprooted and thrown into this hellish place.
"Sam! You're alive!"
The voice cut through the chaos, pulling her out of the storm of noise and movement.
She turned.
Henry, Callum, and Trini were sprinting toward her and Rosa, weaving through the panicked crowd with practiced ease. Their battle gear was scuffed and smeared with blood—some of it theirs, most of it not—but they were standing.
Alive.
In the midst of it all, Dr. Dingle stood surrounded by a cluster of frantic researchers and civilians. Hands reached for him, voices overlapping as they demanded answers, explanations—anything to make sense of the nightmare around them. He looked like he was holding the line by sheer will alone.
"Looks like you made it out in one piece," Rosa said, lowering her spear slightly.
"Yeah, no shit," Trini shot back, breath still uneven, her eyes scanning the area for threats.
"What the hell happened?" Callum added, his tone sharp, restless.
"I saw it," Henry said. "A pillar of light. It came down right into the city."
His gaze shifted to Sam.
He paused.
The exhaustion was obvious—the way she held herself, the faint flicker in her armor, the strain she couldn't quite hide.
"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.
"I'm fine," Sam said.
The answer came too quickly.
"No, you're not," Rosa cut in immediately. "You shouldn't even be on your feet right now. You need to rest before you collapse."
Sam shook her head, already pushing past it.
"We don't have time for that," she said. "We need to figure out where we are."
"Unfortunately," Dr. Dingle's voice interjected as he finally broke free from the crowd, "that's exactly what you need to do, Agent McCoy."
He approached them, his white coat stained with blood, thin scratches marking his face. Despite it, his expression had settled into something controlled—clinical, almost detached.
He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping one loose as if the world around him wasn't unraveling.
"Doc," Rosa said, stepping closer. "Do you know what happened?"
Dr. Dingle lit the cigarette, inhaled once, then exhaled slowly, smoke curling into the air between them.
"It appears," he said, "that we've been displaced into an Echo Field."
Sam repeated the term under her breath. "Echo Field…"
It stirred something in her memory—half-remembered, incomplete. She hadn't reached the same level of experience as the others yet. There were still gaps in her understanding.
"The pillar of light you saw," Dr. Dingle continued, "wasn't just an energy discharge. It was a transport mechanism. It pulled us out of standard reality and anchored us here."
Rosa turned toward Sam, her expression softening slightly—patient, but edged with urgency.
"An Echo Field is a type of pocket space," she explained.
"Pocket space…" Sam echoed.
That, she understood.
Pocket spaces were isolated dimensions—self-contained environments that existed outside the normal framework of reality. Artificial or natural, they were sealed off from the world… like the Hidden World within the Grey.
But something about this—
This felt wrong.
"Not all pocket spaces are stable," Rosa continued. "Echo Fields are… different. They're fragments. Imprints of something that already happened—events, places, sometimes even entire battles."
Dr. Dingle nodded slightly, smoke trailing from his lips.
"Residual reality," he added. "A space formed from the lingering Odic imprint of a powerful occurrence."
Sam's gaze drifted back toward the cavern, toward the blood, the bodies, the creatures still echoing in the distance.
A battlefield.
Again.
"…So we didn't just get transported," she said slowly.
Her fingers tightened slightly.
"We got pulled into something that already existed."
And whatever had created it…
Was still active.