Evelyn's eyes fluttered open, her vision blurred and her body drenched in cold sweat. The oppressive weight that had crushed her moments ago—the deafening heartbeat, the swirling vortex above—was gone. Instead, she found herself lying on her bed in her cabin, the faint glow of an oil lamp casting soft shadows across the room. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling unevenly as if she'd just surfaced from drowning.
For a moment, she simply stared at the ceiling, trying to piece together what had happened. The images were vivid—too vivid. She remembered Alden, Rook, and Garrick rushing to her side. She remembered the twelve monstrous eyes staring down at her, their gazes tearing apart reality itself. And yet… something felt off. The details slipped through her fingers like sand, elusive and intangible.
Then it hit her.
It wasn't real.
None of it was.
The realization struck her like a thunderclap, leaving her stunned and disoriented. Everything from onward—the chaotic streets of Port Solace, the battle against Maltheris, the ritual spiraling out of control—it had all been a dream. A nightmare born not of fear, but of corruption.
Her mind reeled as fragments of memory resurfaced, distorted and fragmented. She recalled writing about the artifact—the Whispering Rod —in painstaking detail, documenting its origins, effects, and level. Yet now, those notes felt foreign, as though they belonged to someone else. The artifact wasn't just cursed; it was alive, feeding off her psyche, twisting her perception of reality until nothing remained but uncertainty.
This was—a world so fragile that existence itself became meaningless. Evelyn had always prided herself on her resilience, her ability to adapt and survive. But now, faced with the truth, she realized how powerless she truly was. The corruption within her wasn't just physical—it was existential, unraveling the very fabric of her identity.
---
"Her fever is worsening," Alden muttered anxiously, his monocle catching the dim light of the cabin as he hovered near Evelyn's bedside. His usual calm demeanor was replaced by visible unease, his brow furrowed deeply as he studied her pale face. "We need to act quickly."
Rook stood beside him, holding a tarot card aloft. Its surface shimmered faintly, etched with intricate patterns resembling fractals and runes. He pressed it gently against Evelyn's forehead, ignoring her unconscious protests. "Let me handle this," he said firmly, his painted grin leering unnaturally despite the gravity of the situation. "This card will subdue the corruption's influence—for now."
Alden frowned skeptically, crossing his arms over his chest. "And how exactly does that work? You're Phase 2 at best, Rook. Whatever's affecting Evelyn… it's beyond anything we've encountered before."
Rook shrugged nonchalantly, though there was a flicker of irritation in his gaze. "Phase levels don't mean everything, old man. Sometimes intuition trumps logic." He tapped the card lightly, causing it to glow brighter. "Besides, I know what I'm doing."
Before Alden could argue further, Evelyn stirred, her eyelids fluttering open as she emerged from the depths of her nightmare. Her violet eyes were wide and unfocused, darting around the room as if searching for something—or someone—that wasn't there. When her gaze finally settled on Alden and Rook, confusion gave way to recognition, followed swiftly by despair.
"What…" she croaked, her voice hoarse and barely audible. "What happened?"
"You passed out," Alden explained softly, leaning closer to examine her expression. "We found you collapsed outside the workshop. Spider carried you back here while we tried to figure out what caused your condition."
Evelyn winced, memories flooding back in disjointed fragments. The ritual, the Sky of Truth , the twelve eyes—all of it felt achingly real, yet impossibly distant. She shook her head weakly, trying to dispel the lingering sensations. "It wasn't real…"
"No?" Alden raised an eyebrow, his tone skeptical. "Then why are you trembling? Why can't you sit up without assistance?"
Evelyn hesitated, unsure how to respond. How could she explain that the boundaries between dream and reality had blurred beyond recognition? That the artifact's corruption had seeped into her very soul, twisting her perception until she no longer knew what was true?
Instead, she focused on steadying her breathing, forcing herself to remain calm. "I'm fine," she insisted, though her trembling hands betrayed her words. "Just… give me a moment."
Spider appeared in the doorway, his masked face tilted slightly as he observed the scene. Without waiting for permission, he approached Evelyn, extending a hand to help her sit upright. But to everyone's surprise—including his own—she recoiled sharply, shaking her head vehemently.
"No," she whispered, her voice tinged with panic. "Don't touch me."
Spider froze, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. After a moment, he stepped back silently, retreating to the corner of the room where he blended seamlessly into the shadows. Evelyn avoided meeting his gaze, guilt gnawing at her insides. She hadn't meant to reject him—it was instinct, born of fear and uncertainty—but the damage was done.
Spider hesitated, his hand hovering uncertainly before dropping back to his side. "Captain…"
"I said I'm fine!" Evelyn repeated, louder this time. Her breathing grew heavier, each inhale feeling like dragging air through molasses. She clenched her fists tightly, nails digging into her palms as she fought to regain control.
---
When Evelyn finally managed to rise from her bed, her legs wobbling beneath her, she staggered toward the desk where she had written her notes about the artifact. The papers were scattered haphazardly across the surface, some crumpled into tight balls, others stained with ink smudges or hastily crossed-out lines. She picked up the sheet detailing the Whispering Rod , her hands trembling as she scanned the text.
But something was different.
The words had changed—or rather, they had become distorted. Where once there had been clarity, now there was only chaos. The artifact's name was no longer legible; instead, it appeared as a series of jagged symbols, their shapes shifting constantly as if alive. Beneath it, the description read:
Artifact Name: [Distorted/Blank]
Level: 6 (Impossibly High)
Description: An conduit of power tied to [Blank], one of the—or perhaps something older, something unnamed. Its presence destabilizes reality, creating temporal anomalies and fracturing causality. Prolonged exposure accelerates corruption, leading to irreversible mental and physical decay.
Origin: Unknown. Speculated to predate recorded history, existing outside conventional timelines.
Impact: Catastrophic. Level 6 artifacts should not exist in this world; their mere presence risks unraveling the fabric of existence.
Evelyn stared at the page, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Level 6 artifacts didn't exist in this world—or at least, they weren't supposed to. According to the rules of Chrono Nexus , such objects transcended conventional classifications, existing outside the boundaries of logic and reason. To encounter one meant confronting forces far older and more insidious than humanity could comprehend.
And yet, here it was, staring back at her in stark black ink. Worse still, the name Whispering Rod was gone, replaced by something unpronounceable—a title that defied language itself. Evelyn felt a chill run down her spine as she realized the implications. This wasn't just an artifact anymore. It was a fragment of something ancient, something incomprehensible. Something that shouldn't exist.
The implications sent a chill down Evelyn's spine. This wasn't just an artifact—it was a fragment of oblivion, a piece of something incomprehensible. And somehow, she had brought it aboard her ship, exposing her crew to its influence.
"Captain?" Alden's voice broke through her reverie, pulling her attention back to the present. "Are you alright?"
Evelyn nodded slowly, though her expression remained haunted. "I… I think so. But we need to talk about the artifact."
"The staff?" Alden asked, frowning. "What about it?"
"It's worse than we thought," Evelyn admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Much worse."
----
As the conversation unfolded, Evelyn gradually became aware of her surroundings. The cabin walls closed in around her, suffocating in their familiarity. She exhaled sharply, her breath hitching as she forced herself to stand upright. Her body felt heavy, weighed down by an invisible force that made every movement agonizingly slow.
She glanced at the others—Alden, Rook, Spider—all watching her with varying degrees of concern. Their faces blurred momentarily, then sharpened again, reminding her of the fragility of perception. Was this reality? Or simply another layer of illusion?
Whatever the case, Evelyn knew one thing for certain: the artifact had marked her. Whether she liked it or not, its influence was spreading, twisting her mind and warping her sense of self. And unless they acted quickly, it wouldn't stop with her.
With a heavy heart and trembling hands, Evelyn folded the altered notes carefully and tucked them away. The whispers continued, relentless and insistent, but she ignored them. For now, survival took precedence over understanding.
Because in this fragile world, existence wasn't guaranteed—and neither was hope.