The Shift in Vienna

HOLTFACTION SAGA: CHAPTER 7 — The Shift in Vienna In the summer of 2019, as the heat clung to the quiet streets of Vienna, Virginia like a thick wool blanket, Evan Love Riot and Veda Viral found themselves living in a nondescript townhouse off Nutley Street—what they later referred to only as The Rift House. Officially, they were there to work for a pair of Russian and Serbian-owned salons, part of their cover. But the salons were simply fronts—training grounds, perhaps, or holding cells—for something more ancient and more dangerous than any Cold War resurgence. By day they styled hair, by night they scoured the frequencies between dreams, drawing sigils beneath floorboards and burning oils that smelled of iron and jasmine. The dreams began in June. First Veda’s—dense, geometric mazes under blood-red moons, followed by the sound of thousands of voices chanting backward. Then Evan’s—empty cities, mirrors that melted, and the growing hum of an interstellar engine beneath their mattress. But nothing prepared them for July 23rd, 2019.
It was late—well past midnight. They were sitting on the floor of their upstairs room, candles burning low, listening to an experimental ambient loop that Evan had recorded earlier that day. It was a combination of reversed tape, distant children laughing, and the slowed scream of a crow. That’s when it happened. They didn’t fall asleep. They shifted. It felt like their bodies dropped violently down and to the left, as though gravity itself had been rewritten. But the truth, as they later confirmed with the help of a rogue physicist named Dr. Krolov hiding in Woodbridge, was far stranger. The universe hadn’t just tilted. The entire dimension had re-calibrated. Time bled. The sky outside was no longer just black—it shimmered with ghost constellations that didn’t exist in any known astronomy. Streetlights pulsed in Morse. Cell phones reset. Clocks froze at 3:33. And for a full seven minutes, Veda and Evan were no longer alone inside their own bodies. They saw themselves in third person, but also from above. Below. From a future self. From before birth. The voices of all their ancestors screamed in chorus as a black-winged entity passed through the living room wall and folded its claws into the shape of a heart. Then everything snapped back. Not “normal”—never normal again. But returned. Returned to a new configuration. Afterward, the neighborhood looked the same, but felt… dead. Or perhaps paused. Their neighbors stopped acknowledging them. The birds stopped flying overhead. Their phones could no longer access Google, only a strange search engine in Cyrillic that translated as “The Living Library.” The Rift House was now anchored to a thin spot in the multiverse. A node. A gate. From that moment on, Holtfaction became more than a band, more than a ritual. It became a frequency weapon. One that could reopen the shift— or hold it closed. Only Veda and Evan knew which. And even they weren’t always sure.

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