Holding Together

The rain hadn’t made it this far in. That was something.

Sera leaned against the back wall of the crumbling warehouse, boots scuffing against the uneven concrete floor as she slid down into a crouch. The space was quiet, empty—forgotten. A storage unit long since abandoned, or maybe never used at all. Whatever it was, it was dry. Isolated.

Safe enough.

She exhaled slowly, arms braced over her knees. The rush of phasing had settled, but her skin still buzzed with residual instability, a dull hum that hadn’t fully faded since she forced herself through that wall. Too slow. Too much resistance. Every shift felt like dragging herself through barbed wire lately—like her body was starting to resist the transition instead of following through.

Her fingers twitched involuntarily, fraying at the edges—dissolving like drops of ink into a stream. She curled them into fists, forced them still. Focus. Regain control.

She reached for the small pouch on her belt, fingers brushing over the familiar ridges of the stabilizer injectors. Her pulse stayed steady. Routine. Just a simple reset. She pulled one free, rolling the thin cylinder between her fingers before pressing her thumb against the activation switch.

Nothing.

The glass vial was empty.

A pause. Then a slow, sinking breath as reality settled in like a weight behind her ribs.

She turned the injector over, holding it up to the dim light filtering in from the ruined skylight above. Bone-dry. No flicker of bioluminescent stabilizer fluid, no soft mechanical hiss waiting to puncture skin. Just emptiness. The last one must’ve burned out during the last phase spike. She hadn’t even felt it.

A cold, creeping unease coiled in her stomach.

No stabilizers. No failsafe.

Sera shut her eyes for a moment, rolling the empty vial between her fingers, feeling its weightless absence. It wasn’t immediate. She still had control—for now. But every moment without a stabilizer left her drifting further from solid ground.

She knew what came next.

Longer flickers. More lag when re-solidifying. The fraying edges of her hands creeping up her arms. The last time she went too long without a reset, she had nearly phased straight through the floor before she could catch herself.

Not an option.

Sera swallowed, shoved the useless injector back into her pouch. She could figure this out. She had to.

But for now, she pressed her forehead against her knees, fingers tightening against the fabric of her sleeves, and focused on staying here. Staying together.

At least until morning.