Travelling through the multiverse starting with: The Walking Dead

The camp had settled into uneasy quiet, the distant crackling of the dying fire mingling with the rustle of wind through the trees. Most of the group had retired for the night, their tense discussion over Elliott's presence simmering in the air like a lingering storm cloud. But while the others tried to sleep, two figures moved through the dim glow of the remaining embers.

Shane and Carl approached the edge of the camp where Elliott had settled, drawn in by the flickering firelight and the unmistakable scent of roasting meat. As they got closer, they saw Elliott crouched near the flames, slowly turning three rabbits skewered on a makeshift spit. The fire cast deep shadows across his sharp features, his expression unreadable as he worked in silence.

Carl hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. "You made a fire," he said, his voice hushed.

Elliott didn't look up. "Needed one. Meat doesn't cook itself."

Shane and Carl took their seats around the fire, forming a loose triangle. Shane watched Elliott with careful scrutiny, but his stomach twisted with hunger, overriding any lingering distrust. Carl, on the other hand, seemed transfixed by the food, his eyes locked onto the meat as it slowly browned over the flames.

For a long moment, none of them spoke. The only sounds were the crackle of burning wood and the distant, eerie groans of walkers far beyond the quarry. Then, Elliott broke the silence.

"Figured out where I was the moment I got to camp," he said, his voice even. "Didn't take much to piece it together."

Shane's brow furrowed slightly. "Yeah? And where's that?"

Elliott smirked faintly, finally turning his attention to Shane. "A world where the dead don't stay down. Where trust is currency, and hope is a liability."

Shane blinked, his mouth slightly open, processing Elliott's words. He let out a scoff, though it lacked conviction. "The hell does that mean?"

Elliott met his gaze, unblinking. "It means I'm not from here. Not from this world."

Shane's expression shifted from wary curiosity to outright disbelief. He let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Bullshit."

Carl, however, had a different reaction. He leaned forward slightly, eyes wide. "That's cool."

Shane turned to look at Carl like he'd just grown a second head. "Carl—"

But Carl just shrugged. "What? It is."

Elliott smirked at Carl's easy acceptance before shifting his focus back to Shane. "You don't have to believe me. But it doesn't change the facts."

Shane exhaled, shaking his head. "Right. Facts."

Elliott continued, his voice calm, analytical. "Carl here? He clings to you. Not his mother. And it's not just a kid looking for protection—it's different. Means something."

Carl looked up, blinking at Elliott's words.

Elliott's gaze flicked back to the fire. "Before Rick comes back, you two are solid. A real bond. But Lori? She plays a game she doesn't even realize she's playing. Dangles hope in front of you, never outright rejecting you, just enough to keep you hanging on. By the time she tells you 'no,' it's too late. You're already too far gone."

Shane inhaled sharply, his body going rigid. "Watch yourself, Elliott."

Elliott chuckled, unbothered by the warning. "Relax. Just making sure history doesn't repeat itself. You're not going to be pushed out. Not if I can help it."

Shane didn't know what to say to that. He wasn't sure if it was arrogance or insight coming from Elliott, but the way he spoke—like he knew something they didn't—made him uneasy.

The meat was almost done when Elliott spoke again. He glanced at Carl, his tone shifting to something lighter. "So, Carl. Who in the camp is your favourite?"

Carl barely hesitated before pointing at Shane. "Shane."

Elliott chuckled. Shane exhaled, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. "Kid's got good taste," Elliott mused, pulling the meat off the fire. He handed a portion to Carl, watching as the boy eagerly took it. Then, with deliberate ease, he asked, "Even if your dad were here?"

The air between them tensed instantly. Shane stiffened, his jaw clenching. "Elliott."

But Elliott ignored the warning, continuing as if nothing had changed. "He's still alive."

Carl's head snapped up, his eyes widening. "Really?"

Elliott nodded once. "Really."

Carl stared at him, searching his face for any sign of deception, but found none. The boy turned back to Shane, but his answer remained unchanged. "I'd still choose Shane."

Shane inhaled sharply, something unreadable flashing across his face. Elliott studied his reaction before leaning back, nodding in satisfaction. "Good."

Elliott let a beat of silence pass before he spoke again, his tone casual but deliberate. "So, if Shane were to leave and probably never come back again… would you want to go with him?"

Shane's stomach twisted slightly at the question. He looked at Elliott, confused and wary. "What the hell are you getting at?"

Carl, however, didn't hesitate. "Yes."

Elliott nodded approvingly. "Good. Then you can stay for the next part of the conversation."

Elliott knew what Carl's answer would be before. When Elliott was standing next to Shane Carl had knocked into him and Elliott could feel a change in the status panel. He had formed a soul bond with Carl, through his strong feelings for Shane. A Godson Bond.

Carl didn't know it, but deep within his very being, something had changed. A tether had been formed, an unseen link that tied him to Elliott in a way that defied logic. Shane, though still wary, could feel it too—like an invisible force anchoring them together.

Shane's unease deepened, but he didn't stop Carl from staying. Instead, he turned his full attention to Elliott, waiting for whatever came next.

Elliott took a slow bite of his food before meeting Shane's gaze, his expression unreadable.

"Options."

Shane straightened slightly, sensing the weight behind his words.

"Option one," Elliott continued. "You come with me. We build something bigger than this, stronger than this. A real family. You fight, you grow, you become something more than just survivors. More than just men waiting for death. You fight strong enemies, and eventually… you surpass them. You become gods."

Shane stared at him, caught between intrigue and scepticism. Carl listened intently, his small hands gripping his food, eyes flicking between the two men.

Elliott let the words settle before moving on. "Option two: You stay here. You live out whatever time you have left, scraping by day after day until you die."

Shane's breath hitched slightly when Elliott said 'die.' But it wasn't just the word—it was the way Elliott had looked at him. And Carl.

Shane realized, in that moment, Elliott wasn't just talking about the world killing them. He was talking about their fate. A fate he already knew.

Swallowing thickly, Shane finally spoke. "When?"

Elliott tilted his head. "You mean when does the world reject me? Or when do you die?"

Shane's fingers curled into fists. "Both."

Carl flinched, his gaze darting between Shane and Elliott. He hadn't fully understood the weight behind Elliott's words until now. His stomach twisted. "Wait—what do you mean?"

Elliott's gaze remained locked onto Shane's, waiting. Watching.

And for the first time in a long time, Shane felt something unfamiliar settle deep in his gut.

Dread.

Elliott's expression darkened slightly as he continued. "The world will reject me within the next year."

A heavy silence settled over them.

It was Carl who broke it. "And us?"

For a moment, Elliott looked almost… upset. His usual unreadable mask wavered, and something raw flickered behind his eyes. He knew how they died—knew that it hadn't been inevitable, but a chain of mistakes, manipulation, and emotions pushed too far.

Elliott exhaled slowly. "Shane… you survive about nine months into the apocalypse. You die before winter hits."

Shane's body tensed. "How?"

Elliott met his gaze, his voice firm but laced with something almost regretful. "Rick kills you."

Shane inhaled sharply. "Rick—?"

"Lori feeds your paranoia, plays you against him. You convince yourself that Rick is a threat. That Lori and Carl are yours to protect. It all spirals, and one night, you lure Rick out into the woods under the guise of finding a runaway prisoner. You plan to kill him, but he stabs you first."

Shane's face darkened, his hands clenching into fists. His breath came out heavier, nostrils flaring. "He—he wouldn't."

"He does." Elliott's tone was calm, but there was an undeniable finality to it. "And that's not the worst part."

Shane forced himself to meet Elliott's gaze, tension coiled in his frame like a live wire. "What's worse than that?"

Elliott hesitated for the first time. "You come back as a walker. And Carl… Carl's the one who puts you down."

Carl's breath hitched as the words sank in. He jerked his head up to Shane, his small hands trembling. "I… I shoot Shane?"

Elliott nodded. "You had to. He wasn't Shane anymore."

Carl stared at the fire, face paling. Shane's chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his fists trembling at his sides. The thought of dying was one thing. The thought of turning, of Carl being forced to kill him? That was something else entirely. Something unbearable.

Elliott let the weight of it settle before continuing. "Carl… you last over seven years. You live longer than almost anyone else. But in the end, it isn't a horde or a battle that kills you. You die saving someone. A bite. A mistake."

Carl swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. "Seven years… that's a long time."

Elliott shook his head, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "Not long enough."

Shane exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. His entire body felt like it had been wound too tight, like he was on the edge of something he didn't know how to pull back from.

"And if we go with you?" Shane's voice was rough, like gravel scraping against steel.

Elliott's eyes burned with certainty. "You live."

The crackling fire filled the silence between them, but the weight of Elliott's words had shifted something. This wasn't just a conversation anymore. It was a choice. A path forward, or a road leading to a dead end.

And for the first time, Shane felt it—

Fate was offering him another way out.

Elliott opened his mouth again before they could make a hasty choice. "It won't be an easy existence. There are beings known as Celestials. They travel from world to world, expanding their influence under the guise of heroism, offering promises, gifts, and salvation. But all they do is twist reality and create mindless believers to do their bidding. But they will never win."

His voice hardened. "You will be under the protection of the Clan of Vhaldryn. Our job is to fight them, to destroy them."

Elliott closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. When he spoke next, his voice carried a chilling finality. "They will pay for what they have done."

Shane swallowed. The way Elliott spoke of Celestials—it was as if he were talking about gods, and yet he spoke of their destruction as though it were inevitable. The air around them thickened, the fire flaring unnaturally high before settling again.

Elliott exhaled, reigning in his telekinesis. I need to control my emotions better.

After finishing his meal, Elliott stood and put the fire out. Bathed in moonlight, his silhouette stood tall and unmoving. "Take a week to think about it. We don't have long to dawdle."

Without another word, Elliott stepped back and leapt—his body soaring fifteen feet into the air before landing effortlessly on a thick tree branch.

Carl gaped in amazement. Wow. So cool. His mind whirled with excitement. If I go with them, I'll stay with Shane and Elliott. I'll get to do things like that. I'll be a superhero.

Shane saw Carl's excitement but gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, kid. Time for bed."

As Shane and Carl retreated to their tents, Shane cast one last look at Elliott's shadowed figure. He hesitated, then later returned, sitting at the base of the tree in silence.

Elliott looked down at him, understanding in his gaze, but closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

That night, Elliott spent the rest of the night practicing his control over his newfound abilities.