The shore did not warn them.
There was no thunder.
No dramatic tear in the sky.
It began with the sea.
The roar behind them — constant— simply... stopped.
Not softened.
Stopped.
The waves froze mid-crest as if painted in place. Foam hung in the air like carved marble. Even the gull that had been circling above seed suspended in a single, silent arc.
Dax was the first to turn.
"What the..."
The word never finished.
A pressure settled into the air.
Subtle at first.
Then tightening.
Like invisible hands pressing against the sides of their skulls.
One soldier dropped to a knee, clutching his head.
Another cursed under his breath.
Jasper had been mid-smile after their heavy talk, sothing about Dax’s "stone-face diplomacy," when his voice cut off abruptly.
His step faltered.
Just slightly.
Dax reached out instinctively, steadying him.
"You alright?"
Jasper blinked once.
Twice.
His pupils flickered.
Not dilated.
Flickered.
Like a fla disturbed by wind no one else could feel.
And then—
A thin line of red slid from his nostril.
Slow.
Deliberate.
It traced the curve of his upper lip before dripping onto the forest floor.
No one saw.
Except Autumn.
She stopped dead.
"Jaspeeerr."
He wiped it casually with the back of his hand.
Smiled.
Too quick.
"I’m fine, Mamma."
But the smile glitched.
Not taphorically.
For half a heartbeat, his face seed... misaligned. A fra out of place. As if reality had stuttered.
Autumn’s breath caught.
The world felt too tight.
And then her mother’s voice ca again.
Not warm.
Not teasing.
Quieter.
Colder.
"Ti is not a toy, Autumn."
The pressure intensified.
Leaves trembled without wind.
A soldier gagged, falling fully to his knees now.
"It is a predator."
Autumn’s jaw clenched.
"I know what I’m doing," she whispered under her breath.
"Do you?"
Her mother’s voice seed to echo from everywhere at once — the trees, the frozen sea, the very air between atoms.
"Every ti he reveals what has not yet happened, reality destabilizes."
As if summoned by the accusation, Jasper swayed again.
Dax caught him more firmly this ti.
"Enough jokes," Dax muttered. "What’s happening?"
Jasper opened his mouth to answer.
His voice overlapped.
Two tones.
One slightly delayed.
Like an echo trying to outrun itself.
"Nothing’s—"
The second version of him finished the sentence half a second later.
"—wrong."
Autumn stepped forward sharply.
"Don’t speak."
Jasper frowned.
"Why?"
And for the briefest flicker—
He wasn’t there.
The space he occupied shimred.
Transparent.
Like heat haze over stone.
Then he snapped back into place.
Dax’s grip tightened.
His knuckles whitened.
"What in the Moon was that?"
Autumn didn’t answer him.
She was listening.
"He is already fading," her mother said, voice now thin as ice cracking over deep water. "You dragged him into a version of ti that rejects him.He inherited your irrationality.You can’t be emotional about everything."
Autumn’s heart began to pound.
"He cannot exist long in this strand."
Jasper looked at her now.
Really looked.
The swagger was gone.
"What is she saying?" he asked quietly.
Autumn didn’t respond imdiately.
Another drop of blood fell from his nose.
This ti, Dax saw it.
His expression changed.
Not confusion.
Fear.
"Jasper."
The young Alpha straightened stubbornly.
"I’ve handled worse."
But even as he said it, the trees behind him warped for a split second — bending inward unnaturally, as though reality were inhaling sharply.
A soldier cried out as the ground beneath him shimred and corrected itself.
Autumn stepped closer to her son.
Close enough to feel the unnatural chill radiating from his skin.
"You told them too much," her mother continued. "Every revelation tears at the weave. The more he anchors himself here, the more violently ti will try to expel him."
"Expel?" Autumn breathed.
"Yes."
Another flicker.
This ti longer.
Jasper’s outline blurred.
Dax’s hand passed partially through his shoulder before solid resistance returned.
Dax recoiled like he’d been burned.
"No."
It wasn’t shouted.
It was growled.
Low.
Protective.
The wolf inside him surged forward instinctively.
Jasper exhaled shakily.For the first ti since arriving—He looked a little uncertain.
"I knew there’d be... side effects," he admitted softly.
Autumn’s head snapped toward him.
"You knew?"
He t her eyes.
"I didn’t think it would start this fast."
The sea behind them cracked.
Not with sound.
With motion.
The frozen waves fractured into shards of suspended water before crashing back into violent movent all at once.
The sound returned like a scream.
Several soldiers staggered.
Autumn grabbed Jasper’s face in her hands.
"You stop talking about the future. Do you hear ? Not another word."
He tried to smile again.
It didn’t reach his eyes.
"That’s difficult, considering I am the future."
"Not here," her mother whispered. "Here, he is an infection."
The word sliced through Autumn.
Jasper heard that one.
His jaw tightened.
"So what?" he muttered. "Ti’s just going to erase ?"
A beat of silence.
"Yes.Unless you shut your mouth."
The pressure peaked.
A ringing filled their ears.
For a terrifying heartbeat, Jasper split—
Two overlapping versions standing slightly out of sync.
One steady.
One translucent.
Then they rged violently back together.
He stumbled forward into Autumn’s arms.
Dax stepped in close, body tense, eyes blazing.
"No one is erasing anything," Dax said through clenched teeth.
Autumn held her son, fingers digging into his coat like she could physically anchor him to existence.
"Tell what to do," she demanded of the unseen voice.
Her mother’s reply was almost pitying.
"You must choose what he knows."
The wind returned in a sudden gust.
Leaves whipped violently.
The sea resud its rhythm.
But the air still felt fragile.
Like glass stretched too thin.
Jasper straightened slowly.
Wiped the remaining blood from his lip.
Forced a grin.
"Well," he said hoarsely, "that’s mildly inconvenient."
Autumn didn’t smile.
Dax didn’t breathe.
Because now they all knew.
Every truth Jasper spoke was not just information.
It was a wound in ti.
And ti, as promised—Was beginning to hunt.
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