جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 50

The wind on the roof of the Centurion Tower was not a breeze; it was a physical assault. It whipped Elion’s hair into his eyes and snapped the production flags like gunshots.Fifty stories above Manhattan, the air was thin and smelled of exhaust and ozone.Elion stood at the edge of the "Leap of Faith" obstacle course, staring down at the dizzying drop. The safety net looked like a spiderweb spun by a very small, very optimistic spider."This is insane," Elion shouted over the wind. "This is actual, certify-able insanity. Who insured this?""Lloyd's of London," Kieran yelled back, adjusting his harness. "And probably a priest. Don't be a chicken, Doc. It's just gravity.""Gravity kills people, Kieran.""Only if you land wrong."Elion turned to Cale. He expected Cale to be his usual stoic self, perhaps making a dry comment about the drag coefficient of a falling body.But Cale wasn't making comments.Cale was staring at the steel rigging that suspended the swinging platforms. His face

The rooftop of the Centurion Tower had been transformed into a gladiator arena for the sky.Cameras on cranes swooped overhead like vultures. The wind, which had been a threat yesterday, was now a gale, whipping the banners and making the steel rigging sing a high, discordant note.Elion stood in the holding pen, a small tent set up near the edge of the roof to shield the contestants from the weather before their run."You look like you're about to throw up," Kieran noted, adjusting his own harness. He looked annoyingly confident, bouncing on the balls of his feet."I'm visualizing," Elion lied, gripping his water bottle."Visualizing what? Your obituary?""Visualizing you tripping," Elion shot back. "It's a very vivid image.""Cute. But I don't trip, Doc. I soar.""That's a tagline," Mia said from the corner, checking her makeup in a compact. "You should trademark that.""I already did."The tent flap opened. A production assistant stuck her head in."Kieran, you're up. Elion, on dec

The kitchen was a symphony of chaos, conducted by twelve hungry reality stars and a producer desperate for B-roll footage.It was "Family Dinner Night," a mandatory bonding event decreed by Mira to soften the edges after the near-death drama of the rooftop challenge. The industrial stoves were firing on all cylinders, pots were clanging, and the air was thick with the competing scents of garlic, roasting chicken, and burned butter.Elion stood at the center island, chopping onions. His eyes were watering, but it wasn't from emotion. It was just sulfur."You're doing it wrong," Kieran said, leaning over Elion’s shoulder. "You're bruising the onion. You have to slice, not chop.""Kieran," Elion said, not looking up. "I am holding a very sharp knife. Do you really want to critique my technique right now?""Touché. Just saying. Presentation matters."Kieran wandered off to harass Mia, who was trying to make a salad look photogenic for her Instagram story.Elion wiped his eyes with the bac

The shower water running in the bathroom sounded like rain. Or static. Or the hissing of a gas valve just before ignition.Cale sat on the edge of the chaise lounge, staring at his hands. They were clean. He had scrubbed them in the sink until the skin was raw, but he could still feel the phantom warmth of Elion’s blood. It was a sticky, iron-scented memory that soap couldn't wash away.He closed his eyes, searching for the image that was supposed to comfort him. The face. The smile. The woman who had handed him a flower in a timeline long dead.Mother.He reached for the memory.It was gone.There was a hole in his mind. A smooth, grey blankness where her features used to be. He knew he had a mother. He knew she had loved him. But he couldn't see her. He couldn't hear her voice.It was the price of the ticket. One soul for one memory."Worth it," Cale whispered to the empty room. His voice was a wreck, gravel grinding on glass. "It was worth it."He looked at the bathroom door. Elion

The world didn't just stop. It unspooled.Cale sat on the floor of the bedroom in the new timeline—the safe timeline—but his mind was still caught in the transition. He was vibrating with the aftershocks of a universe that had been forced to rewrite itself.He looked at his wrist.The skin was red and tender, but the blistered burn from the rewind was fading, knitting itself back together into smooth, pale flesh.Six.Six white marks.He traced the empty space where the seventh mark used to be. It felt cold. Numb.It’s gone, Cale thought. The payment is processed.He closed his eyes and tried to summon the memory he had traded.Mother.He knew the word. He knew the concept. He knew he had one. But when he tried to picture her face... there was nothing. Just a static grey blur, like a photograph left out in the rain until the ink ran.He tried to remember her voice.Silence.He tried to remember her name.S... Sa...Gone.A tear leaked out of his eye. It was hot and salty."Worth it,"