The world around me was alive with a glow that didn’t belong to any place I’d ever been—or any place I could imagine, for that matter. The air felt thick, almost syrupy, and carried a strange warmth that settled into my aching chest like an unwelcome guest. In the distance, vibrant colors rippled and danced in impossible shapes, their movement more fluid than light had any right to be.

I groaned as I tried to sit up, my ribs screaming in protest with every breath. My left arm hung limp at my side, useless, while the rest of my body felt like it had been through a meat grinder. Slowly, carefully, I shifted my weight, planting one trembling hand on the ground. The surface beneath me was smooth and cool, like glass, but it shimmered faintly under my palm, as if alive.

“Simon.”

Her voice pulled me out of the haze, soft but steady, a tether in the chaos. I turned my head, squinting against the glow, and there she was—Gwen.

She stood a few feet away, her arms at her sides, her posture relaxed but deliberate. Her expression was calm, almost serene, but her eyes… there was something there, something knowing.

“You’re here,” she said, the words carrying a weight that made my stomach tighten.

“Gwen?” I managed, my voice hoarse.

She nodded, stepping closer, her movements smooth and deliberate. “Yes, Simon. It’s me.”

“How…?” I began, my words trailing off as a wave of dizziness washed over me.

“Don’t push yourself,” she said, kneeling beside me. She placed a hand on my shoulder, and I flinched instinctively, though her touch was gentle. “You’re injured—badly. Let me help.”

I wanted to protest, to demand answers, but my body had other ideas. My head lolled forward as she pulled something from a pouch at her side—a small vial filled with a faintly glowing liquid. Without asking for permission, she tilted it to my lips.

“What is—”

“Just drink,” she interrupted.

I hesitated, but the exhaustion in her tone convinced me. The liquid was warm and sweet, sliding down my throat like liquid honey. Within moments, the sharpest edges of my pain dulled, and my breaths came a little easier.

“Better?” she asked.

I nodded slightly, though my mind was spinning. “Gwen, what’s going on? Where are we? And how are you here?”

She leaned back, folding her arms across her knees as she studied me. “This place… it’s called the Verge. It’s a space between dimensions. The vortex pulled you here when it collapsed.”

“Pulled us here,” I corrected. “You’re here too.”

Her lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. “Yes. And no, it’s not a coincidence. I’ve been waiting for you.”

The statement hit me like a punch to the gut. “Waiting for me? How could you possibly—”

“Because I knew you’d be here,” she interrupted, her voice calm but firm. “Trevor made sure of that.”

The mention of his name sent a chill down my spine. “Trevor,” I echoed. “Future me.”

She nodded. “He planned for this. He knew what was coming and did everything he could to ensure you survived.”

I stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. Trevor—future me—had orchestrated everything. The battle, the vortex, even Gwen’s presence here.

“And what about him?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Did he… is he gone?”

Her gaze softened, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in her expression—hope? Regret? “The vortex doesn’t just destroy,” she said carefully. “Sometimes, it redirects. There’s a chance he made it back… to Eden.”

The possibility hit me like a jolt of electricity. If Trevor—if I—had made it back, then maybe all of this wasn’t for nothing.

But there was something else gnawing at the edges of my mind. “And you,” I said, forcing myself to focus on her. “You said you’ve been waiting for me. How? How did you know?”

Her gaze met mine, steady and unflinching. “Because I’m not the Gwen you remember, Simon,” she said softly. “I’m… from your future.”

I blinked, my mind struggling to keep up. “Future you?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice tinged with something that sounded like sadness. “I’ve lived through this before, Simon. All of it. That’s how I knew to find you here.”

Her words settled over me like a heavy blanket, equal parts comforting and suffocating. Trevor wasn’t the only one who had come back to set things in motion. Gwen—future Gwen—was here, too, her presence a reminder that my life wasn’t just my own anymore.

I didn’t know whether to feel grateful or trapped. For now, all I could do was trust her—and hope that she knew the way out.

---

Walking was harder than it should have been. Every step sent shocks of pain through my ribs, and the ground wasn’t helping. It kept shifting—sometimes solid, sometimes slippery, and occasionally doing this strange rippling thing that made me question whether my head was still attached properly. Gwen stayed close, steadying me with one hand under my arm.

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“So,” I began, wincing as my foot landed on what felt like a particularly wobbly patch of nothing, “you’re from the future. Care to explain how that works? Or is this one of those ‘it’s complicated’ situations?”

“It’s complicated,” Gwen said, her tone annoyingly matter-of-fact.

I let out a huff, which hurt, so I stopped doing that. “Of course it is.”

We kept moving, the strange glowing horizon in the distance warping like heat waves on a summer road. Gwen, for her part, seemed perfectly at ease, as if she’d taken leisurely strolls through this surreal nightmare before.

“Let me guess,” I said after a few more awkward steps. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

Her gaze flicked to me, something almost amused crossing her face. “In a way,” she said. “Not here exactly, but I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me where?” I asked, nearly stumbling as the ground decided to be more liquid than solid again. “This place doesn’t exactly scream ‘waiting room.’”

She hesitated, her jaw tightening slightly. “It wasn’t the easiest waiting game,” she admitted. “But I knew you’d come. Trevor made sure of it.”

There it was again—Trevor. The future me who’d spent who-knows-how-long scheming to get me through this mess.

“Trevor,” I said, testing the name like it might bite me. “You knew him?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

“And he told you to be here,” I pressed. “To… what? Be my guide? My babysitter?”

Her lips quirked in the faintest hint of a smile. “Something like that.”

I stopped walking—or rather, the ground stopped cooperating, and I had no choice but to pause. “You’re being awfully cryptic,” I said. “If you’re from the future and Trevor sent you, why not just lay it all out? Save us both the headache.”

She folded her arms, her expression softening, though it still carried that frustrating air of someone who knew far more than they were letting on. “Because some things you need to figure out for yourself,” she said. “And because…” She trailed off, her gaze slipping past me to the glowing horizon.

“Because what?” I asked, my patience wearing thin.

She met my eyes, and for the first time, there was something vulnerable in her expression. “Because I’m not the Gwen you remember,” she said softly. “I’m from your future. It’s the only way I could have known where to find you.”

That stopped me. “Future Gwen,” I repeated, the words feeling strange on my tongue. “So, you’ve been through this before?”

“In a sense,” she said, looking uncomfortable now. “But it’s not as simple as repeating events. Time doesn’t work like that—not here.”

I frowned, trying to piece her words together in a way that made sense. “And Trevor? He said everything was for Eden. What did he mean?”

Gwen’s expression shifted, a shadow passing over her face. “He meant exactly what he said,” she replied. “Everything he did, every decision he made—it was to protect Eden. Your daughter.”

My chest tightened at the mention of Eden. “And him?” I asked quietly. “Is he… gone?”

“The vortex doesn’t just destroy,” Gwen said carefully. “Sometimes, it redirects. If anyone could find a way through, it’s Trevor. There’s a chance he made it back. To Eden.”

A sliver of hope lodged itself in my chest, fragile but impossible to ignore. If Trevor—future me—had survived, then maybe there was a way out of this madness after all.

We started walking again, though my mind was still racing. “And you?” I asked after a while. “What’s your role in all this? You’re not just here to hand me strange glowing potions and keep me upright, are you?”

She didn’t answer right away, her eyes fixed on the shifting terrain ahead. When she finally spoke, her tone was lighter, but there was something carefully measured about it. “Let’s just say I have my reasons,” she said.

I let out a dry chuckle, which hurt less this time. “Of course you do. Because nothing about this is simple.”

Her lips twitched again, almost smiling. “Now you’re catching on.”

---

The air seemed to hum louder as we walked, an odd vibration that settled deep in my chest. Every step felt heavier, and not just because of my injuries. Gwen walked beside me, her movements calm and deliberate, as though she’d done this a thousand times before.

“You’re still processing, I imagine,” she said after a while, her voice steady but soft.

I glanced at her, unsure how to respond. What was I supposed to say? That I had no idea what to make of her or this place? That the weight of Trevor’s sacrifice—my sacrifice—was sitting on my shoulders like a boulder? Instead, I shrugged, which hurt more than I expected.

“I guess I’m still wrapping my head around the whole ‘Trevor is me’ thing,” I said eventually.

She nodded, her gaze forward. “That makes sense. It’s not an easy thing to grasp, let alone accept.”

“And what about you?” I asked, though my tone was more curious than accusatory. “How do you fit into all this? How do you know so much?”

For a moment, she didn’t answer. Then she let out a soft sigh. “Because I’ve seen what happens if you fail.”

That stopped me cold. “If I fail?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Trevor was fighting something, Simon. Something massive. Something you haven’t faced yet.”

I stared at her, the words sinking in slowly. “Fighting what?”

“The end,” she said simply.

I blinked. “The end of what?”

“Earth,” she said, her voice steady. “Not destruction. Not war. Something worse. The Bureau was going to stop it, Simon. Stop everything. They decided Earth had fulfilled its purpose and wasn’t needed anymore.”

I frowned, trying to process what she was saying. “What do you mean, stop it?”

“They were going to pause it,” she explained. “Freeze it in time. No more progress, no more change. Just… silence. A world locked in place forever, because the Bureau decided it wasn’t worth keeping around.”

The words hung in the air, too big, too surreal to fully comprehend. “And Trevor… he was trying to stop them?”

She nodded. “For centuries, Simon. He tried everything—fighting, bargaining, rewinding time again and again to find a solution. But no matter what he did, it wasn’t enough. The forces he was up against were too vast, too powerful.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on me. “So he gave up?”

“No,” she said firmly. “He realized he couldn’t do it alone—not as he was. So, he turned to you. To his past self. He used the Chrono-Rev Dial to rewrite his own history, to pass on everything he’d learned—his skills, his memories, his powers—back to you.”

I took a shaky breath, my mind racing. “But why send me here? To this… Verge?”

“Because the rewinds fractured your soul,” she said. “Every time he rewound time, he broke a piece of himself—and of you. The Verge is the only place where those fractures can begin to heal.”

“And the vortex?” I asked, though the question felt heavier than it should.

“It was his last chance,” she said. “He believed it would send you here, where you needed to be. And he hoped it might send him home.”

“To Eden,” I said quietly.

“Yes,” Gwen said. “Trevor wanted to stop the Bureau’s decision, to save Earth, and then return to Eden. That was his goal. And now…” She trailed off, her gaze steady on mine. “Now it’s yours.”

Her words hit me like a freight train. Trevor—future me—had spent centuries fighting an impossible battle, breaking himself apart over and over, just to give me a chance to finish what he couldn’t. And if he believed I could do it… maybe he was right.

We started walking again, the hum of the Verge growing louder, its energy pressing against me like a living thing. Somewhere out there, the answers were waiting. And whether I was ready or not, it was time to find them.