"The loading dock should be this way," I led them toward the back of the building.
We had just reached a hallway leading to the rear when Zane suddenly froze, his body going rigid. His eyes widened, fixed on something we couldn't see.
"Zane?" Winter reached for him, concerned.
He didn't respond, his breathing becoming rapid, his pupils dilating. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he stared into middle distance.
"He's caught in a vision pocket," I realized, recognizing the symptoms. "The zone is showing him something."
"How do we snap him out of it?" Winter looked ready to freak out.
Before I could answer, Zane let out a strangled cry, lunging forward, directly at me. His hands gripped my shoulders with bruising force, his face contorted with an emotion I couldn't immediately identify.
"You're alive," he choked out, fingers digging into my flesh as if confirming I was solid. "You're fucking alive."
Understanding dawned. "What did you see?" I didn't move away despite the discomfort of his grip.
"You. Dying." His voice was raw. "Throat torn out. Blood everywhere. I couldn't..." He shook his head violently, as if trying to dislodge the image. "It wasn't real. Fuck. It wasn't real."
Something shifted in my chest at the genuine fear in his voice. Not for himself, but for me. I awkwardly patted his shoulder. "Takes more than a vision to kill me, fae."
He released me abruptly, composing himself with visible effort. "Right. Obviously." He stepped back, avoiding both Winter's and my concerned gazes. "Let's just find these relics and get the hell out of this nightmare zone."
We continued down the hallway, Winter between us as planned, but the encounter had changed something. A new awareness hummed between Zane and me, an unspoken acknowledgment that perhaps our antagonism had roots insomething other than mere rivalry. I was purposely ignoring what had happened in that damn therapy room.
The loading dock was a platform with rusted bay doors, long since jammed in half-open positions. Following Finnegan's instructions, I located a section of flooring with a subtle difference in coloration.
"Here," I knelt, running my fingers along the seam. "There should be a…"
A tremor shook the building, dust raining down from the ceiling. Winter stumbled, catching herself against the wall. As her hand hit the surface, her prophetic markings flared bright blue, responding to some unseen threat.
"Something's coming," her voice was tight as the markings spread visibly up her arm, crawling beneath her sleeve toward her shoulder.
The tremor intensified. Cracks spiderwebbed across the concrete floor. From outside came a sound like tearing fabric, magnified to deafening volume.
"The Veil," Zane's voice was grim. "It's shifting. We need cover, now."
I abandoned my search for the vault entrance, grabbing Winter's arm. "This way," I pulled her toward a reinforced door marked "Emergency Shelter" that I'd noted during our approach.
We barely made it through before the world outside seemed to convulse. Reality itself warped, the air rippling like heat waves over asphalt. Through the small window in the shelter door, I watched as memory fragments multiplied, dozens appearing and disappearing in rapid succession, their contents blurring together in a nauseating kaleidoscope of stolen moments.
"What's happening?" Winter pressed against me, her heart racing fast enough that I could feel it where our bodies touched.
"Reality storm," Zane secured the door behind us. "The zone's unstable areas sometimes collapse temporarily. It'll pass, but we're not going anywhere until it does."
The shelter was small but well-equipped, clearly designed to protect workers if the factory's magical containment systems ever failed. Emergency lights activated as we entered, casting everything in a soft, amber glow. Basic supplies lined the walls, canned food, water, blankets, even a small medical kit.
"How long will the storm last?" Winter sank onto a metal bench, her hand absently rubbing her bad knee.
Zane shrugged, already examining our temporary haven for potential threats or exits. "Hours, maybe. Could be all night. No way to predict in a zone this damaged."
I growled with frustration. "Meaning the relics will have to wait."
"Better that than getting caught in whatever's happening out there," Winter nodded toward the window, where fragmentary visions continued to cascade through the air like broken television channels.
We settled in reluctantly, making the most of our confinement. I swept the small space for surveillance devices or traps while Zane checked the supplies. Winter watched us both, her expression thoughtful, fingers absently tracing the blue markings that still pulsed beneath her skin.
"At least we're not dead," she broke the tense silence. "So there's that."
