The marketplace fell away.

The chatter, the smell of bread, the clatter of hooves—gone. All that remained was silence and the witch's silver gaze burning through the noise of the world.

Kael blinked, and the crowd blurred like wet ink. When his vision steadied, he was no longer in the market square. He stood in a dim, circular room lit by candles that burned with blue fire. Symbols were carved into the walls—runes that pulsed like heartbeats. The air smelled of dust, incense, and something older than both.

"Well," Kael said, voice casual but his hand inching toward the dagger he'd stolen that morning. "That's one way to say hello."

The witch stepped out of the shadows. Her cloak whispered like smoke, and though her hair was gray, her face was ageless. Lines marked her skin, but her eyes held centuries. She smiled faintly. "You always did hate walking."

Kael's smirk faltered. "You know me?"

"Better than you think, Kael Vorrion." Her voice was soft, but it carried the weight of prophecy. "I saw your death. And I saw the time fracture when you refused it."

He studied her carefully. "You saw that, huh? Guess privacy's not much of a thing for witches."

"Not when time bleeds," she replied simply. "The Chrono Blade's echo shook every realm that touches this one. You should not be here."

Kael grinned. "Story of my life."

The witch circled him slowly, examining him like a relic. "You have returned twenty years before the fall. The threads of fate were meant to erase you, yet you remain. That is… dangerous."

"Danger's a relative thing," Kael said. "Compared to being erased, I'd say I'm doing great."

Her eyes narrowed. "Mockery will not shield you. You tampered with the Blade once. Do it again, and even time will devour you."

Kael tilted his head. "You say that like it's supposed to scare me."

She sighed, exasperated, as if dealing with a misbehaving child. "You were always arrogant. Even as the gods wept."

That made him pause. "You were there," he said quietly. "When they cursed me."

"I watched the moment you defied them," she admitted. "I remember the sound of the Chrono Blade shattering. The scream that tore the sky apart. The boy who laughed while dying."

Kael chuckled, low and bitter. "Still my best performance."

The witch's eyes softened, but only slightly. "You should not be alive. The gods will notice. They always do."

Kael's smile returned, sharper now. "Then they can come find me."

---

She studied him for a long moment, then turned away. "You seek the Blade."

"Of course," he said. "It's the only thing more stubborn than I am."

"It is broken," she said. "Its fragments scattered across time. Some fell into mortal hands, others into the void between moments."

Kael's fingers flexed unconsciously. "And if I gathered them?"

Her expression darkened. "Then you would break time again."

He shrugged. "Then I'll just fix it after."

"You speak like a god."

"I've killed a few."

That earned him a small, grim smile. "Still arrogant," she murmured. "Still doomed."

Kael's eyes glinted. "Doomed is just another word for interesting."

---

The witch walked to a table cluttered with scrolls and glass vials. She uncorked one, pouring silver dust onto a small mirror. The surface rippled, showing faint images—battlefields, towers, oceans of fire. "The first fragment lies not far from here," she said quietly. "In the catacombs beneath Graycross Cathedral."

Kael's grin widened. "Convenient. I was heading there anyway."

"You misunderstand." Her tone was sharp. "The catacombs are sealed by divine locks. Only a wielder chosen by the gods may enter."

Kael laughed softly. "Then they'll just have to pretend they still like me."

The witch frowned. "You cannot brute-force fate, Kael. Every action you take twists the world around you. You are already a paradox."

"Then I'll be the best paradox they've ever seen."

"You will need help," she said finally. "Even you cannot fight destiny alone."

Kael crossed his arms. "Help from who? You?"

"I am bound to neutrality," she said. "But others… others may yet remember the old wars. Seek the thief in the river district. He once stole from the gods themselves."

Kael raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like my kind of man."

The witch met his gaze. "Kael Vorrion, do not make me regret saving you from the unraveling."

"Saving me?" he asked with mock offense. "I thought I was the one doing all the hard work."

She ignored him, turning back to her mirror. "Time bends around your choices. Do not think it will bend forever."

Kael moved toward the door. "Noted."

He paused, hand on the threshold. "You never told me your name."

The witch smiled faintly without looking at him. "Names are for those who live one lifetime."

He chuckled. "Then I'll call you Tomorrow."

---

When he stepped outside, the sunlight hit him like a slap. The world rushed back—shouts, wheels, the smell of smoke. But the air felt heavier now, threads of fate vibrating around him like strings pulled too tight.

Kael breathed deep, savoring it. "Twenty years early," he muttered. "Plenty of time to ruin everything again."

As he walked toward the cathedral hill, he noticed a glimmer on his wrist—a faint symbol, glowing like a clockwork rune, etched into his skin. It pulsed once, then vanished.

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