Ian stood on the wasteland as wind blew in through the ruins, whipping up gray dust. The sky was yellow, like the pages of an old, yellowed book, and the low-hanging clouds hung motionless.
In the distance, the skeletons of buildings creaked and groaned in the wind.
Black Box's voice rang out.
"What are you thinking about?"
Ian lifted his head and looked at that yellow sky.
"I'm thinking about where it all went wrong."
"The timeline was fixed, the rifts were patched, and everyone who should've been sent away was sent away. In theory, history should have returned to its proper course—in theory."
Ian sighed in defeat. "But clearly, reality didn't."
"Maybe you could ask God, since you're on such good terms with him—" Black Box said, indicating there was nothing it could do, because the world now had neither networks nor technology.
Ian froze at that. He thought of Lucifer, that bastard who had become his uncle. How could he have let the world turn into this?
"God's whole family is not easy to deal with—" Unless he had absolutely no other choice, Ian really did not want to get involved with that supreme family.
Besides, he had already prayed in his heart, but God had not appeared because of it. Perhaps that also meant God did not want to step in and help.
"I can investigate the cause. There's still a chance to restart time." With that thought, Ian felt as if he had fallen into the whirlpool every Speedster was unable to discuss.
He took off, flying toward the sky. The ruins on the ground grew smaller and smaller, the skeletons of buildings like rusted needles stuck into the earth. The rivers had changed course, and the once-broad riverbeds were reduced to thin lines of water.