Hours passed, but Jade wasn't even close to sleep.
The others had drifted into uneasy rest scattered around Ezra's safehouse, but her brain wouldn't shut off. It was like a glitch looping inside her head, skipping the same thought over and over again:
The book. The damn book.
She glanced at her backpack sitting by the metal cot.
It was still in there Temporal Logic & Causality, like some cursed object from a bad horror movie that you knew you should destroy, but couldn't stop looking at.
She didn't even remember finding it in the library, not fully. One minute she was searching for air, the next Noah was handing it to her, telling her she had signed it.
Her own handwriting. A message she never remembered writing.
"Return before the end."
Her fingers itched.
Screw it.
Jade slipped quietly out of bed and unzipped her bag, pulling the book out like she was disarming a bomb. The cover still looked harmless enough, faded black, slightly worn, the author's name printed neatly at the bottom:
E. Blackwell.
She opened it.
The first few pages were typical, dense academic jargon, a mess of diagrams she barely understood.
"Temporal consistency is maintained through stabilized thread convergence... blah blah blah..."
It read like someone had tried to make time travel sound even more confusing than it already was. Which was saying a lot.
But then she reached the margin notes.
Her margin notes.
Written in her own messy, looping handwriting.
Except... she hadn't written these.
One note circled a diagram and read:
"Instability rises after loop 5. Pattern repeats unless anchor established."
Another simply said:
"Don't let them merge you."
Her skin prickled.
The book wasn't just some academic text. It was a roadmap. Or a warning.
Or both.
Behind her, someone shifted
"Couldn't sleep either?"
Jade nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned to see Noah leaning against the wall, arms folded, voice soft.
"Seriously, do you practice sneaking up on people? You're like a horror movie extra."
He gave her a small smile.
"I've had... practice."
Jade exhaled, rubbing her forehead.
"I keep going in circles. Every time I think I'm getting ahead of this, I find something else waiting to punch me in the face."
"Welcome to loops," Noah said quietly.
He moved closer, eyes flicking to the book.
"You found something."
"More like I found... myself. Again.
She flipped the book toward him, showing the margin notes.
"I don't remember writing any of this."
Noah studied the pages, his jaw tightening.
"Because you didn't. At least, not in this version."
Jade's voice dropped.
"Another version of me left this."
"Most likely."
"But how? How is this even possible?.
Noah hesitated before answering.
"Time isn't as linear as you've been taught. Some versions of you made it further. Some didn't. But pieces of them... bleed through."
Jade's stomach twisted.
"So I've basically been leaving myself cryptic post-it notes from alternate lives?"
"Roughly."
She let out a dry laugh.
"God, that's depressing."
Noah sat beside her on the edge of the cot, keeping a careful distance between them. He always did that, close, but not too close. Like he didn't trust himself.
Or like he was afraid she'd disappear if he got too comfortable.
"These notes could help," he said softly.
"Whatever version of you wrote this had information we don't."
Jade stared at the page again.
"Anchor established..."
"An anchor?" she asked. "What kind of anchor?"
"Something that ties you to a fixed point. A person, a place, a memory." Noah's voice was steady, but his eyes darkened as he spoke.
"Without one, your thread drifts further apart every time you loop."
"And if I keep drifting?"
"You'll fracture," Noah finished. "Completely
Jade exhaled sharply, feeling the weight settle into her chest again.
"I thought you said I was a fork. Doesn't that make me... different?"
"Different isn't the same as safe," Noah said softly.
"You're still vulnerable."
"You always make this sound like it's already too late."
"Because most versions of you? It was."
That stung more than she expected.
She looked down at the book again.
"So what was my anchor?"
"You have to choose one," Noah said quietly.
"That's the problem."
Jade's throat tightened.
The unspoken question hung between them: And what happens if I choose wrong.
Suddenly, another voice cut into the room.
"You two done playing 'existential dread' in the corner?"
Jade looked up to see Riley standing near the doorway, half-asleep but fully annoyed.
"Because if you're gonna crack up, at least do it somewhere I don't have to hear it."
Jade managed a tiny smile.
"Good morning to you too."
"It's three a.m."
"Exactly."
Riley walked over, glanced at the book, and gave a low whistle.
""You found Blackwell's notes?"
"You know this guy?" Jade asked.
"Yeah. And you're not gonna like who he worked for."
Jade already had a sinking feeling.
"Let me guess."
"The Queen's inner circle. Timeline Zero."
Jade closed the book, her stomach officially sick.
"Of course he did."
Riley's voice softened just slightly.
"But he defected. Sort of. That book? It's one of the few things he left behind that the system never scrubbed."
"Why would he leave it for me?" Jade whispered.
"Maybe he thought you were worth saving."
Riley paused, eyes steady.
"Or maybe he thought you were the only version that could win."