The storm over Oakhaven wasn't weather.
It was pressure.
A low, thrumming vibration that crawled across rooftops and through alleyways like a living thing. Cade Vane felt it before he heard it — a faint tremor in the fillings of his teeth, a pulse in the marrow of his bones.
He stood on the roof of his substation, jacket open, ribs taped, breath fogging in the cold air. He hadn't slept. Couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the End-Point dragging itself out of the harbor, skin rippling with stolen light.
He wasn't charged.
He wasn't healed.
He wasn't ready.
But the city didn't care.
A metallic clink echoed behind him.
Cade turned.
A small, matte-black drone hovered at eye level — silent, seamless, shaped like a teardrop. A spiral symbol glowed faintly on its surface.
Mercer's people.
The drone projected a thin beam of light onto the rooftop gravel, forming a holographic circle. Coordinates. A time. A warning.
SINGULARITY EVENT: 14 MINUTES.
Cade's pulse spiked. "Event? What kind of event?"
The drone didn't answer. It simply rotated once, as if nodding, then shot upward into the clouds.
Cade stared at the coordinates.
The location was familiar.
Too familiar.
The Golden Crust bakery.
"Shit."
He vaulted off the roof.
His knees screamed. His ribs protested. His lungs burned. But he ran anyway, boots hammering the pavement, each step sending a jolt of pain up his spine.
He cut through alleys, hurdled trash cans, slid under a half-collapsed fence. The vibration in the air grew stronger with every block — a deep, resonant hum that made the streetlights flicker.
When he reached the bakery, the front door was open.
Not broken.
Not forced.
Just… open.
"Lila!" Cade shouted, pushing inside.
The shop was dark. Flour dust hung in the air like fog. The radio was still playing — a soft jazz tune warped by static.
"Lila!" he called again.
A faint sound answered him.
Not a voice.
A whisper.
Cade's skin crawled.
He stepped into the back room.
Ion sat at the prep table, plaster casts resting on the metal surface. His eyes were open. Too open. Staring at nothing.
"Ion?" Cade whispered.
The old man didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't move.
Cade reached out and touched his shoulder.
Ion collapsed sideways like a puppet with its strings cut — no wounds, no marks, no struggle. Just… gone.
Cade staggered back, heart pounding.
"Lila," he breathed.
A soft scrape echoed from the storage room.
Cade moved toward it, every nerve screaming.
He pushed the door open.
Lila stood in the center of the room.
Alive.
But wrong.
Her eyes glowed faintly — not amber, not gold, but a cold, pale white. Her hair floated slightly, as if underwater. Her skin shimmered with a translucent sheen.
"Lila?" Cade whispered.
She tilted her head.
When she spoke, her voice was layered — Lila's voice on top of something deeper, older, hungrier.
"He was touched by you," she said. "He carried your Echo. The Singularity wanted to taste it."
Cade's blood ran cold. "What did you do to him?"
Lila blinked slowly. "I didn't do anything. I'm just the door."
The vibration in the air intensified. The walls shook. Flour bags burst open, dust swirling around her like a halo.
Cade took a step back. "Lila, fight it. Whatever's inside you—"
"There is no inside," she said. "There is only the pull."
Her pupils dilated until her eyes were pure white.
The Singularity spoke through her.
"You shine too brightly, Callus."
Cade's breath caught.
"You are the fracture in the equation. The anomaly that refuses to collapse. You are the debt that cannot be paid."
The room darkened.
The vibration became a roar.
Lila lifted off the ground — weightless, suspended by invisible threads.
Cade braced himself, ribs screaming. "If you want me, take me. Leave her."
The Singularity laughed through her mouth — a sound like metal grinding on bone.
"She is already gone."
A shockwave blasted outward.
Cade was thrown into the hallway, smashing through a rack of baking trays. His vision blurred. His ears rang. His ribs felt like they were splintering.
He forced himself up.
The bakery walls were cracking, splitting like eggshells. Light poured through the fractures — white, blinding, hungry.
Lila floated toward him, feet inches above the floor.
"You cannot run from the center of your own gravity," the Singularity said. "You are the beacon. You are the call."
Cade clenched his fists.
He had no charge.
No energy.
No strength.
But he had one thing left.
Anger.
He stepped forward. "Get out of her."
The Singularity tilted Lila's head. "Make me."
Cade lunged.
The moment he touched her, the world inverted.
Light swallowed everything.
Sound collapsed.
Gravity folded.
And Cade Vane fell into the Singularity.