The darkness stretched on, an endless void that seemed to echo with fragments of sound and memory. I wasn’t sure if I was awake, alive, or something in between. My thoughts splintered like shattered glass, each shard carrying pieces of the truth I was struggling to hold onto.

Then, a faint light emerged—not bright, but enough to pierce the suffocating blackness. I blinked, realizing I was standing—no, floating—in a space that felt neither real nor imaginary. The light expanded, forming shapes and outlines until I recognized the workshop. Not the same one from before, but a distorted version, as though it had been copied and pasted imperfectly across dimensions.

I wasn’t alone.

The other versions of me—fractured, scattered, and broken—were there. Some were frozen in time, staring blankly ahead. Others moved, restless, their forms flickering like old film reels. And in the center, the device floated, glowing faintly but pulsing with instability.

Emily’s voice pulled me back.

“Rohan! Over here!”

I turned, relief washing over me as I saw her. She looked shaken but intact, standing on what appeared to be a solid piece of the fragmented world. I made my way to her, the ground shifting and warping beneath my feet.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

She nodded. “I think so. But this place... it’s wrong.”

I looked around, my heart sinking. “It’s the fractures. They’ve merged into this... pocket dimension, a liminal space where all the timelines intersect.”

“Can we fix it?” she asked, her tone desperate but determined.

I hesitated, my eyes drifting to the floating device. “Maybe. But it’s not going to be easy.”

We approached the device cautiously, the air around it crackling with unstable energy. As we drew closer, one of the fractured versions of me stepped into our path.

“Stop,” he said, his voice hollow. “You can’t fix this. It’s too late.”

I stared at him, recognizing the pain in his eyes. He was a version of me that had given up, consumed by regret and failure.

“It’s not too late,” I said firmly. “We can still set things right.”

He shook his head. “You think fixing the device will undo the damage? It won’t. The fractures are part of us now. Removing them will tear us apart.”

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Emily stepped forward, her voice unwavering. “Maybe it will. But if we don’t try, everything—every version of Rohan—will be lost.”

The fractured me hesitated, his form flickering. Then he stepped aside, his expression unreadable.

We moved past him, the device now within reach. Up close, its surface shimmered with an almost liquid quality, layers of time and energy swirling together. I could feel its pull, a deep hum resonating in my bones.

“I think I can recalibrate it,” I said, scanning the controls. “But it’ll require precision. If I mess up—”

“You won’t,” Emily interrupted, her hand briefly resting on my arm. “You’ve come this far. You can do this.”

I nodded, drawing a steadying breath before reaching out. The device reacted instantly, its energy flaring as if it recognized me. Symbols and patterns danced across its surface, shifting faster than my eyes could follow.

Suddenly, the world around us trembled. The fractured versions of me began to stir, their movements erratic. Some cried out, their voices a chorus of anguish and fear.

“Rohan!” Emily shouted over the rising noise. “What’s happening?”

“The device—it’s destabilizing!” I yelled back. “I need more time!”

One of the fractured versions stepped forward, his face twisted in anger. “You’re making it worse!” he shouted. “Stop before you destroy everything!”

Another voice cut through the chaos, calm yet firm. “No. Let him finish.”

I turned, startled to see yet another version of myself—this one older, his eyes lined with wisdom and weariness. He stepped forward, his presence commanding.

“This is the only way,” the older me said, addressing both the fractured versions and Emily. “We’ve all suffered because of the fractures. But if we don’t act now, we’ll lose everything.”

The angry version of me hesitated, his fists clenching and unclenching. “And what if he fails? What if this just... erases us?”

The older me met his gaze. “Then at least we’ll have tried. Isn’t that better than fading into nothingness?”

A tense silence followed, broken only by the hum of the device. Then, one by one, the fractured versions began to step back, their forms flickering as they retreated into the shadows.

“Thank you,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if they could hear me.

I returned my focus to the device, my hands moving instinctively over its surface. The symbols responded, shifting into new configurations as I worked. The energy around us grew more intense, the air crackling with raw power.

“Almost there,” I muttered, my heart pounding.

Emily stood beside me, her gaze unwavering. “You’ve got this, Rohan.”

The device emitted a sudden, piercing sound, and I felt a jolt run through me. For a moment, everything froze—the fractured versions, the shifting ground, even the light itself. Then, with a deafening roar, the device erupted in a blinding flash.

When the light faded, I found myself back in the workshop. The real one this time, not the distorted version. Emily was beside me, her expression a mix of relief and exhaustion.

“Did it work?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I looked around, my heart sinking as I realized the fractured versions were gone. But the device lay silent and intact, its energy finally at rest.

“I think so,” I said, though uncertainty lingered in my voice.

We stepped outside, the cool night air a stark contrast to the chaos we had just endured. The stars above seemed brighter, their light steadier, as if the universe itself had exhaled.

“It’s over,” Emily said, her hand slipping into mine.

I nodded, though a part of me wondered if it was truly the end—or just the beginning of a new chapter in our story.