The problem with saving the world repeatedly was that you didn’t get recovery time between apocalypses.

We’d barely made it out of Cairo’s frozen hell before coalition personnel were handing us water bottles and explaining that transport to London was already arranged, because apparently the gates didn’t care that we were exhausted and still had issues in uncomfortable places.

"Immediate departure recommended," Cell Leader Rashida said, walking with us toward waiting vehicles. "London’s situation is escalating, coalition reports increasing reality distortions."

"Of course it is," I muttered, accepting the water bottle and drinking half of it in one go.

Void was on my shoulder, heavier than before, warmer, eyes brighter even in the desert sun, and I kept glancing at it to make sure it was actually okay after obliterating a twenty-foot beast king with casual efficiency. It made a soft sound, pressed closer to my neck, and I felt the warmth radiating from its small form like it was burning with barely contained energy.

"You alright?" I asked quietly.

Another soft sound, but no sparkles, no chirps, just that same exhausted closeness. We made it to the airport, through security that waved us past with barely a glance because coalition credentials apparently meant something, and onto a plane that would take us to London.

Four gates down.

Four left.

My body hurt, my brain was tired, and I was pretty sure I’d seen enough dimensional nightmares to last a lifetime. Azryth settled beside me in the seat, his hand finding mine with automatic ease, and through the binding I felt exhaustion mixing with something else, something focused and intent that didn’t match the fatigue.

Void was on my lap, curled up in a way it hadn’t done since first joining us, and I stroked its fur gently while the plane prepared for takeoff.

"Rest, Riven." Azryth said quietly. "You need it."

"So do you," I pointed out.

"I will."

But through the binding, I felt that he wouldn’t, that his mind was working on something, processing information, forming theories he wasn’t ready to voice.

The plane took off, and I closed my eyes, trying to let exhaustion drag me toward sleep.

Then Void went completely still.

Not the usual stillness, but profound, absolute stillness, like someone had flipped a switch and shut it down. I opened my eyes and looked down, Void’s eyes were closed, not just resting closed, but fully closed, lids sealed shut, and when I touched it gently its body was warm but unresponsive.

"Void?" I said quietly.

Nothing.

No response, no movement, not even the small sounds it had been making, just profound sleep, breathing so subtle I could barely detect it, radiating warmth and energy that felt strangely familiar in a way I couldn’t place.

"Azryth," I said, voice tight with concern. He was already leaning over, looking at Void with sharp attention.

"It’s asleep," I said. "And I can’t wake it up."

I tried gently shaking Void, talking to it, even poking it carefully, but nothing worked. Its eyes stayed closed, body unresponsive, just that steady warmth and the faint sense of breathing. And radiating from it, subtle but present, was energy that nagged at my memory like something I should recognize but couldn’t quite place.

Familiar, but wrong somehow, or right in a way that didn’t make sense.

Through the binding, I felt Azryth’s attention sharpen into laser focus, felt something click into place in his mind, felt urgency spike.

"What?" I asked through the binding. "What’s wrong?"

His eyes stayed on Void, studying it with intensity that made my chest tighten with anxiety.

"I need to confirm something," he said aloud, voice careful.

"Confirm what?"

"A theory," he said. "About the fragments."

I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t, just continued watching sleeping Void with that calculating expression.

"Azryth," I said. "What theory?"

"I’m not certain yet," he said quietly. "I need to see something first."

Frustration spiked through me, mixing with concern about Void and exhaustion from back-to-back gates.

"See what?" I pushed.

He looked at me then, and through the binding I felt conflict, uncertainty mixing with growing certainty, the sense that he suspected something significant but didn’t want to voice it without proof.

"What happens at a gate when Void isn’t present," he said finally.

The words hung between us, loaded with implication I didn’t fully understand but could feel the weight of.

"You think Void is connected to the fragments disappearing?" I said slowly.

"I think it’s possible," he said carefully. "The timing is suspicious, every gate, the fragment vanishes the moment we secure the artifact. And Void changes after every gate. Bigger, stronger, different."

I looked down at sleeping Void, at the creature that had protected me absolutely, called me Mama, obliterated threats with terrifying power.

"You think it’s taking them," I said.

"I don’t know," Azryth admitted. "But I need to find out."

The plane continued toward London, and I sat holding an unconscious entity that might or might not be absorbing pieces of a dimensional threat, feeling anxiety coil in my chest. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

***

London was cold and grey when we arrived, typical British weather greeting us with drizzle and overcast skies that matched my mood. Coalition vehicles were waiting, and we transferred directly to the gate location without even stopping for food because apparently rest was for people who weren’t trying to prevent reality from fragmenting.

Void stayed unconscious in my arms the entire journey, warm and unresponsive, radiating that strange familiar energy.

Mara, Henrik, and Ryota looked exhausted, dark circles under their eyes, movements slower than usual, but none of them complained about the immediate deployment.

They trusted Azryth knew what he was doing.

I trusted Azryth too, felt through the binding how important this was to him, how much he needed to test this theory.

But that didn’t make leaving Void behind any easier.

The gate location was in a plaza near the Thames, coalition barriers established, reality distortions visible even from a distance as sections of air seemed to glitch and flicker with electric blue light.

A man was waiting for us, maybe early sixties, wearing coalition gear and an expression of profound relief.

"Cell Leader James Wright," he said, shaking hands with efficient courtesy. "London Cell is extremely grateful for your assistance."

"Happy to help," Azryth said, then got straight to the point. "We need a secure location for something important. Protected, monitored, completely safe."

Wright didn’t even blink at the vague request. "We have secure facilities nearby, environmental controls, full surveillance. What are we protecting?"

Azryth gestured to sleeping Void in my arms.

Wright looked at it, at the emerald horns and the faint glow emanating from its form, and nodded like people brought him glowing animals regularly.

"This way," he said.

He led us to a coalition building two blocks from the gate, proper facility with security checkpoints and reinforced doors, down to a lower level with rooms designed for secure storage, not artifact storage, not prison cells, just secure rooms with monitoring equipment and environmental controls.

"Will this work?" Wright asked, gesturing to one of the rooms. Clean, well-lit, comfortable temperature, surveillance cameras in corners, and a padded surface that would work for setting Void down.

"Yes," Azryth said.

I stood in the doorway, holding Void, and felt my arms lock up with reluctance.

Leave it here, alone, unconscious, while we went into a gate? What if something happened? What if it woke up scared and we weren’t there?

Azryth’s hand found my shoulder, and through the binding I felt reassurance mixing with that urgent determination, the need to know, to confirm or disprove his theory.

"It’ll be safe here," he said quietly. "And we need to do this."

"I know," I said, but my arms didn’t cooperate.

I forced myself to walk into the room, to set Void down carefully on the padded surface, and immediately felt wrongness settle in my chest.

Void looked small against the surface, vulnerable in a way that made my throat tight.

"We’ll be back soon," I told it, knowing it couldn’t hear me but needing to say it anyway.

Void didn’t respond, just continued that profound sleep, chest rising and falling with subtle breaths, radiating warmth.

I turned and walked out before I could change my mind, and the door sealed behind us with a magnetic lock that felt too final.

Wright stayed to monitor, and we left the building, heading back toward the gate.

I immediately felt wrong.

Void had been with us constantly since the nexus, since it drove away the Equilibrium Emissary and decided we were worth staying with, always on my shoulder or floating nearby or pressed against my chest.

The absence felt like missing a limb, like part of me was in that secure room instead of where it belonged, my hand kept reaching up to touch my shoulder, finding empty space, feeling the wrongness intensify.

Mara noticed, walked closer. "It’ll be okay," she said quietly. "We’ll be back before you know it."

"Yeah," I said, not believing it.

The gate came into view as we approached the plaza, and it was nothing like the others we’d seen, not organic, not elemental, but mechanical, formed from interlocking metal plates and glowing circuits, geometric patterns that pulsed with electric blue light and sparked with energy.

"First gate without Void," Henrik observed quietly.

"Yes," Azryth said, and I felt through the binding his focused determination, the need to see what happened.

I looked at the mechanical gate, thought about Void sleeping in a secure room two blocks away, felt the absence like a physical ache.

"Let’s get this over with," I said.

Azryth’s hand found mine, fingers interlacing, and we approached the gate together. Whatever happened inside, whatever we found or didn’t find, would answer questions Azryth has in his mind.

I just wasn’t sure I was ready for those answers.