The Alchemist

The world is turning to bright yellow glass.
The Alchemist. I have to see her.
She has the pills I need.
Her blend of phase-anchoring nanobots and cellular dimensional disruptor isotopes aren’t cheap.
What’s your task?
Reach across time for an artifact?
Disrupt the future for a prophesy.
Bring me a Weaver Crystal, she says. Red.
Ah. Materials collection.
Easy.
I reach through space to The Hive, my hand brushing across Clusterdrones from cave to cave.
I break off a shard and hand it to the Alchemist.
Orange will do, she mutters, and my lead-weave pouch is full once again.