The mosaic

**Kelly Thompson's POV**

Reality is a broken mosaic.

One moment, the mining complex’s walls are ice and rust; the next, they’re sandstone etched with hieroglyphs of winged serpents. The air smells of burnt hair and lotus blossoms. Eden kneels beside me, the Oblivion seed fused to his palm, its tendrils of darkness snaking up his arm. Veyd’s golden dust swirls in a phantom wind, coalescing into a skeletal figure with circuitry for veins. Jara grips a knife that shifts between metal and bone in her hand, her face a mask of grim acceptance. Echo’s voice thrums in my skull, colder now, fraying at the edges. *This is your doing. You hesitated.*

Eden’s stormlit eye flickers. **“It’s… *talking* to me. The seed—it’s not a thing. It’s *alive*.”**

A shadow peels from the wall, resolving into a creature with too many joints and a face like a shattered mirror. It speaks in Veyd’s voice. **“Welcome to the Kaleidoscope. Where the Verse’s failures come to play.”**