The Cortex lights were dim—emergency mode. The hum of the broken time vault was still echoing through the structure like a dying heartbeat. The servers sputtered in protest, a few sparks popping from overhead wiring.

There were two men in the room, but the air was thick with three presences.

Barry stood in his suit, chest rising and falling, fists curled tightly at his sides. His knuckles trembled from more than just speed—they trembled with betrayal. Again. Across from him, the man he once trusted more than anyone—Dr. Harrison Wells—stood bloodied, panting, but infuriatingly calm.

Except he wasn’t Wells. Not truly.

“You lied to me.” Barry’s voice cracked like a thunderclap. “You used all of us. You killed people, Eobard. You killed the real Wells, and God knows how many others just to… to play house at S.T.A.R. Labs!”

Across from him, the Reverse Flash adjusted his ruined glasses with a slow, deliberate movement. His voice came cool and measured, as if this were a seminar and not a showdown.

“And you’re still surprised by that? After everything we’ve been through, Barry?” Eobard’s smile twitched at the corner—not amusement. A mask. A thing to hide the tension growing just behind his eyes. Because he heard it now.

A sound he’d learned to dread and yearn for in equal measure.

That glitching, reverberating pull—like a vinyl record warping mid-song. Reality cracking, just slightly, around the edges.

He didn’t look toward it yet. He didn’t need to.

It was her.