Quantum Step-Payton's Awakening

Chapter 16 Awakening the King

The King's Awakening

The King hadn't stirred since we dragged him through the portal.

He lay still beneath a heavy woolen blanket in the infirmary tent, the low hum of diagnostic scanners barely filling the silence. The medics worked in near silence—no dramatic shouting, no rushing about—just grim, focused movements. It was as if everyone knew that the wrong noise, the wrong pressure, could pull him farther away instead of bringing him back.

I stood at the edge of the tent, hands clenched at my sides, watching. Waiting.

Nancy was there too, leaning against one of the support beams, arms crossed tight across her chest. Peter sat nearby, sharpening a blade he hadn’t even needed during the rescue, working off the nerves with steady, mechanical precision. JJ paced just outside the tent’s entrance, his boots stirring up restless clouds of dust.

And Queen Elowen—
She hadn’t left his side once.

She knelt there still, one hand resting lightly on his wrist, her eyes never wavering. The world outside the infirmary—command briefings, security drills, whispered rumors—none of it touched her. Her whole world was narrowed to the man lying before her.

I couldn’t blame her.

Because despite everything—despite collapsing tunnels, insurgent patrols, portals barely holding together—I couldn’t shake the fear that we’d arrived just a little too late.

I took a step closer, the amulet against my chest pulsing faintly, like it was calling out to him.
Or warning me.

A faint groan escaped the King’s lips.

Elowen leaned in sharply, hope and terror flashing across her face in the same instant.

His eyes fluttered.

Slow. Weak.

But alive.

“Payton...” he croaked.

And just like that, the weight of every unanswered question, every lost year, every broken world, came crashing down between us.

The King’s gaze, unfocused at first, struggled to find me.

I dropped to one knee beside the cot, suddenly feeling like a boy again—too small for the weight pressed against my chest, too raw for words.

“It’s me,” I said hoarsely. “I’m here.”

For a long, terrible moment, he said nothing. His lips moved soundlessly, as if trying to form words that wouldn't come. Then, slowly, his hand lifted—shaking, searching—until it found my arm.

His grip, though weak, was fierce with intent.

“I knew...” he whispered. “I knew you would come.”

Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t look away. I couldn't. I squeezed his hand tighter, as if by sheer will I could anchor him here, pull him back from whatever edge he had been teetering on for so long.

“You held on,” I said. “You fought.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it cost him the strength he didn’t have to spare. His chest rose and fell with shallow, ragged breaths.

“Not... for me,” he rasped. “For you.”

Behind me, I heard Nancy shift quietly, giving me space. The Queen leaned forward, tears streaming freely down her face now, her hands trembling where they hovered over his.

“You’re safe now,” she whispered. “You’re home.”

The King’s eyes fluttered closed again, but this time it wasn’t defeat—it was relief.

He was still so weak.
The reunion we needed—answers, stories, lost years—would have to wait.

But for now... for now it was enough.

He was alive.

And for the first time in a long time, hope didn’t feel like a distant dream.

It felt real.

It felt earned.

It felt like a beginning.



Quiet After the Storm

The medics took over after that—gently moving the King onto a cleaner cot, setting up fresh IVs, running quiet diagnostic scans under the Queen’s watchful eye.

I stepped out of the infirmary without really thinking about it, my legs carrying me toward the edge of the camp where the cliffs overlooked the Expanse.

The wind hit me first—sharp, cold, real.

I sucked in a long breath of it, trying to slow the pounding of my heart. My whole body still buzzed from the mission, from the sprint through collapsing tunnels, from the way the King’s hand had clutched mine like a lifeline.

Behind me, I heard soft footsteps crunching the gravel.

Nancy.

She didn’t say anything at first. She just came up beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed, and stared out across the endless, shimmering fields of light and mist beyond the cliffs.

For a long time, we just stood there.

Finally, she spoke—her voice low, steady.

“You did it, Payton. You brought him back.”

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping before I could stop it.

“We barely made it. If we were a minute slower... if one stone fell the wrong way... if I’d hesitated...”
I broke off, clenching my fists until my knuckles popped.

Nancy turned to me, her eyes fierce in the low light.

“You didn’t hesitate. You fought. You survived. And you saved him.” She paused, voice softening. “You saved all of us.”

I looked at her then—really looked.
Not just at the strength she carried like armor, but at the way she was standing so close, the way her hand was half-lifted toward mine like she wasn’t sure if she should reach for me or not.

Without thinking, I closed the distance, taking her hand in mine.

She squeezed once, firm, grounding.

Neither of us said a word.

We didn’t need to.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was carrying the weight of the world alone.

We stood there at the edge of the world, holding onto something solid while the winds howled around us.

Whatever came next—wars, betrayals, impossible choices—we’d face it together.



The Queen’s Summons

The wind had barely begun to settle when I heard another set of footsteps approach—measured, deliberate.

I turned to see Keeper Benti approaching across the clearing, his cloak snapping in the rising breeze.

He inclined his head respectfully. “Payton. Her Majesty requests your presence.”

Nancy gave my hand a final squeeze before letting go.
“Go,” she said quietly. “They need you.”

I nodded, my chest tightening, and followed Benti back toward the heart of the camp.

The infirmary tent was already quieter now, the King resting under careful watch. Beyond it, the Queen stood alone outside the war tent, silhouetted against the low-burning fires. She looked different somehow—still regal, still composed—but with something deeper behind her eyes now.

Something heavier.

When I stopped a few paces away, she turned to face me.

"You've done what many thought impossible," she said. Her voice was warm, but there was steel beneath it. "You've brought my husband back to us. You've reignited hope where there was none."

I lowered my head slightly in acknowledgment, but something in her tone told me this wasn’t just praise.

“But with hope,” she continued, “comes new danger.”

She gestured for me to follow her inside the war tent.

Inside, the map table had been cleared. Only one object rested on its surface now: a small, weathered lockbox, old enough that the Illuian crest carved into its lid was barely visible.

The Queen rested her hand lightly on it.

“This was entrusted to me the night the King was taken,” she said. “A final safeguard… for you.”

“For me?” I asked, my voice catching.

She nodded.

“The King knew that if he fell, the burden would eventually pass to you—not just to survive, not just to lead—but to decide the fate of our world and every world beyond.”

She opened the box.

Inside, resting on a bed of dark velvet, was a second amulet—different from the one I carried.
Older. Darker. And somehow... heavier, even from a distance.

“You were always meant for more than rescue missions,” the Queen said softly.

Her eyes met mine—fierce, proud, unyielding.



“You were meant to awaken the Nexus itself.”





The Nexus Awakens

I stared at the second amulet, pulse pounding.

It was nothing like the one I wore—the one I thought had changed everything already.
This one... it thrummed with a deep, old power that seemed to vibrate in my bones, pulling at something buried so deep inside me I hadn't even known it was there.

I reached out, hand trembling despite myself.

"Wait," Queen Elowen said, but it was already too late.

My fingers brushed the surface.

And the world exploded.

Not outward—but inward.

A shockwave of memories, visions, and raw force crashed into me all at once, ripping me away from the tent, from the Queen, from everything real and solid.

I was falling—
Falling through collapsing cities, endless deserts lit by twin suns, oceans suspended between stars.

I saw gates—thousands of them—fractured and failing, flickering like dying embers across countless worlds.
I saw armies gathering beyond the void, creatures and machines and horrors that didn’t belong to any single world but all of them.
I saw the Rootsites—the ancient hubs that once bound worlds together—cracking, bleeding, calling out.

And I saw a throne.

A throne of crystal and light, half-buried beneath a ruined Nexus.

Waiting.

Waiting for me.

Pain lanced through my mind. My vision swam. My heart threatened to tear itself apart under the pressure of too many voices, too many demands.

You are the Heir.
You are the Warden.
You are the Last Hope.

The voices tore through me, louder, sharper, until one thought—one certainty—burned through the chaos:



If I didn’t claim the Nexus... someone else would.
And if they did, everything would fall.



With a ragged gasp, I was yanked back into my body.

I stumbled backward, the amulet falling from my hand, its glow sinking back into the velvet like a dying star.

The Queen caught me before I collapsed.

"Easy," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I should have warned you. It's not just a relic. It's a calling."

I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the aftershocks of what I'd seen still thrumming in my blood.

Breathless, shaken, I met her gaze.

"We're running out of time," I said.

She nodded once, grim.



“And the real war... is only beginning.”