Zurich, 2037 — The CERN Rift
A new song pierced the walls of reality.
Not music. A waveform—transmitted across all known frequencies, encoded in every language and none. They called it The Fracture Choir. Scientists heard it. Children sang it in their sleep. Mirrors began to echo, not reflect.
At the epicenter, a portal opened beneath CERN's decommissioned collider. Not a wormhole. A wound.
Damien stood at its edge. RIVEN pulsed red.
"Analysis incomplete. Structure composed of memory. Yours."
From within, a different Damien stepped out—eyes black, voice like torn static. "You gave them time. I gave them purpose."
Before Damien could speak, the other self leaned in."I'm what happens when you win."