The night was thick with silence, but the air inside the mansion never slept.
Zero stood at the edge of the Academy's rooftop again, eyes scanning the stars. Not for direction — he already knew where this version of time was headed — but out of habit. Stars were one of the few constants. They didn't lie. People did. Fathers did.
Below, Luther paced through Reginald's office like a caged bear, journal in hand, trying to stitch together a narrative from half-written sentences and missing pages. Diego had left hours ago, refusing to believe that Reginald's death had been anything but murder. Allison trailed Vanya through the mansion, tension thick between them. And Klaus… Klaus was still missing.
Zero already knew where he was. Knew what room. Knew the name of the motel. Knew the number on the door. He even knew the minute Klaus would break. And the second Hazel would hesitate.
But he didn't intervene.
Not yet.
Inside his private world, Zero had run this simulation forty-seven times. Each time, the outcome was the same — unless Klaus was pushed to the edge. Pain would unlock him. Not gently. But it had to be done.
In the kitchen, Grace moved like clockwork, humming a tune no one else remembered. She tilted her head as Diego stormed past.
"She's going to die," Zero said quietly.
Grace turned. "Pardon, dear?"
But Diego was already unplugging her. Shaking. Angry. Gentle.
Zero didn't move.
He'd already watched it once. It didn't get easier.
When Diego walked away, alone and breathless, Zero looked at Grace's lifeless form on the couch. Not dead. Not alive.
Just… powered off.
Like time, in his hands.
Later, Luther sat alone in the greenhouse, holding the journal.
He still didn't know about the serum. About the experiment. About the truth of what Reginald had done to him. But Zero did. He remembered the day it happened, even though he wasn't there. He'd seen it through time's lens, like film played backwards in a flickering reel.
"Big brother," Zero said, stepping through the shadowed doorway.
Luther didn't answer.
"You're not mad because Father hid the truth," Zero continued. "You're mad because you were so sure you were special — and now you're scared that what he made you… means nothing."
Luther stood suddenly. "Why are you here? You always show up when it's too late."
"Because that's when you finally listen."
Luther's jaw clenched, and Zero stepped back, unbothered. Their pain was loud, but time made Zero quiet.
Somewhere in the city, Klaus screamed.
The sound didn't reach the mansion.
But Zero felt it in his chest.
He opened his hand and time pulsed.
The motel room appeared around him — hazy, echoing. Not real. A vision projected forward.
Klaus was tied up. Hazel and Cha-Cha were losing patience. Klaus spat blood and jokes in equal measure. But then it happened — a tear in the air behind him. A whisper.
Ben.
Zero felt the shift.
Klaus had reached through.
In all the versions Zero had watched, Klaus never made it this far without breaking down. But this time, he endured longer. Saw more.
Zero let the vision fade. Just enough.
He could not save Klaus from this. Not yet.
But he could do something else.
He turned time forward, pulled himself back into his planet.
There, he opened the collapsed thread — the one that ended the quickest. Twenty-four hours from now.
Everything burned.
Not from an explosion.
From her.
Vanya.
In the living room, Vanya stood at the balcony rail, watching the moon rise. She felt him before she heard him.
"You ever feel like everyone else is playing by a set of rules you weren't given?" she asked.
"All the time," Zero said, leaning on the rail beside her.
"They treat you like you're a danger. Like you're something to be managed."
"I am," Zero said. "So are you."
She looked at him, surprised. Then something softened in her expression.
"You're the only one who ever says that like it's okay."
"That's because it is."
They stood there in silence.
If he told her now — about the world ending, about the power buried inside her — she'd panic. Or worse. She'd try to fix it the wrong way.
So he said nothing.
Because time had rules.
And he still had one more use left today.
He saved it.
For tomorrow.
When everything would start to fall apart.