"ISAIAH!"
The name tore from his throat. It was like a war cry, desperate, broken and howling. It echoed across the empty sky, swallowed by the vast indifference of the ocean below and the stars above, and no answer came.
He was sure this was the same world. He had been so sure. The corrupted ocean, the rift scars, the taste of the magic in the air, it all matched.
It all aligned with the corrupted ocean he entered in the dam incident. This was the same world. This was the world where Isaiah—
He had been looking for so long. Weeks. A month. He had lost track of time somewhere between the first rift he closed and the dozen others he had found and fought and sealed. He had been searching the whole time.
Beneath every battle, behind every monster, under every wave, he had been searching.
"ANSWER ME—!"
