This one was terrifying. A pair of goggles attached to a handheld spindle. When you put the goggles on, you could see the "threads" of causality—the tiny, invisible choices that led to every outcome. The spindle let you pluck one thread and replace it with another. Not rewriting history—the Loom was too "minor" for that. It could only change things like: the technician who sneezed at the wrong moment or the screw that was tightened 0.1% too much . A tool for fixing disasters before they happened by editing the almost-invisible errors that led to them.

And Thorne prayed he would never, ever have to use it.

Dr. Aris Thorne had not slept in forty-seven hours. Not because of nightmares, not because of the stale coffee growing a fungal empire in his mug, but because of the humming.

No instructions. No warnings. Just a name.

And in the dark of the cargo bay, behind a triple-locked compartment, the grey cube—The Unmaker—waited. Thorne had a theory about what it was for. Not for destroying enemies. Not for erasing worlds.

“I know what quantum entanglement means, Kay. I read the same hazard sheet you did.” Thorne pulled out a dented old device from his belt—a Resonance Disruptor Model 1.7 , a tool so obsolete it was practically a fossil. “But I also know that the ‘Advanced Tools Mega Pack’ contains its own key. It’s a closed system. The Pack is designed to be opened by its own contents. It’s a puzzle box.”

Kay grabbed the Silent Cutter. He had never used one before. He didn't need training. The tool understood its purpose. He drew a line in the air between the mercenaries and Thorne. It was a simple, horizontal line, one meter long, two meters high.