The wind didn't move here.

It was the first thing Eira noticed when they arrived — that absolute, unnatural stillness. The grass didn't sway, the air didn't hum, even their footsteps didn't echo. It was as if the world had been paused mid-breath.

Kael had called it "the Verge," a temporal boundary between timelines where time refused to flow in either direction. No death, no decay, no change.

In other words — no escape.

Jorah took one look around and muttered, "Well, this is cozy. Perfect spot to lose our minds."

Eira ignored him. She was watching Kael.

He stood at the edge of a still lake that wasn't really a lake — it reflected nothing. It was like staring into a piece of obsidian polished smooth by eternity. The faint glow beneath his skin was dimmer now, but still there, pulsing softly with every heartbeat.

"You shouldn't have brought us here," she said quietly.

Kael didn't turn. "Would you rather I let Kieran drag us into the fracture again?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"That this place isn't healing you. It's holding you."

He finally turned. His expression was calm, but the exhaustion behind it ran deep. "That's the point. If I move, the connection grows stronger. If I stay still, maybe he fades."

Eira crossed her arms. "Or maybe you just fade faster."

Jorah coughed awkwardly. "Okay, I'll just… not be in this very uncomfortable emotional argument. I'll check the perimeter, make sure the laws of physics are still broken." He wandered off, muttering about "time gods and bad communication skills."

Eira waited until he was out of earshot. "Kael, look at me."

He didn't. His gaze was locked on the void-lake. "I see him in the reflection sometimes."

Her chest tightened. "Kieran?"

Kael nodded faintly. "He talks less now. Just watches. Like he's waiting for me to make the next mistake."

She stepped closer. "He's not you, Kael. Whatever he is — whatever he came from — he's not you."

He finally met her eyes, and she saw it: that faint shimmer, that mirrored flicker when the light hit him just right. "You keep saying that," he said softly, "but what if he's right? What if I created him the moment I thought I was better than everyone else who fell before me?"

Eira's jaw tightened. "Then you learn from it. That's what you do. You don't drown in it."

His smile was brittle. "Spoken like someone who's never drowned."

Eira's voice dropped to a whisper. "You're wrong about that."

He blinked, something like guilt flickering across his face. "Eira, I didn't mean—"

"I know," she said. "But stop pretending you're the only one who's been broken by this. You're not."

For a long time, neither spoke. The silence pressed against them — too perfect, too heavy. The Verge had no birds, no wind, no heartbeat beyond theirs.

Finally, Jorah returned, holding something that looked suspiciously like a stick. "Okay, so bad news: physics is officially on strike. I threw this at a tree and it froze midair. Good news: I caught it before it hit me in the face."

Eira sighed. "That's not good news, Jorah."

"It is for my face."

Kael smirked faintly — the smallest crack in his carefully maintained stillness. "At least someone's adapting."

Jorah grinned. "Adaptation is just panic with better marketing."

But even he went quiet when he saw Kael's reflection in the still water — because it didn't move the same way.

It blinked slower. Its smile lingered too long.

Eira saw it too. "Kael," she said slowly, "don't move."

He froze. "What?"

She stepped closer to the lake. "Your reflection—it's not… you."

Kael looked down, and for an instant, the reflection smiled at him — a perfect mirror, except for the eyes. They gleamed with silver fire.

Kieran's voice rippled across the surface, soft, almost tender. "Miss me?"

Eira drew her blade instantly. "Stay back!"

Kael's pulse quickened. "No. He can't—he shouldn't be able to reach this far. This place is outside time."

Kieran's reflection tilted its head. "You really don't understand, do you? I don't need time anymore, Kael. I'm what's left between it."

The ground around the lake shimmered, freezing mid-glow. Cracks of light spread like spiderwebs.

Jorah stumbled back. "He's bleeding through the barrier!"

Kael stepped forward. "No, he's trying to pull me in. If I move, he wins."

Eira's voice was sharp. "And if you don't?"

He gave a small, tired smile. "Then we stay in the quiet forever."

"That's not an option."

"It might be the only one."

Before she could argue, the reflection lunged — a wave of mirror-light erupting from the lake, grabbing Kael's arm. The air rippled like torn fabric. Eira slashed at it, but her blade passed straight through.

Kael gasped, falling to one knee as silver light began crawling up his skin again. "He's—inside—"

Eira knelt beside him, pressing both hands to his shoulders. "Kael! Listen to me! You're not alone. Not anymore. Fight him!"

Kieran's voice was in both their heads now, calm and cruel. "You can't fight what you made. You called me to carry the burden, remember?"

Kael's teeth clenched. "Not anymore."

He pressed his hand to the ground, letting the Blade of Paradox ignite — a flicker of unstable time energy that made the air tremble. He drove it into the soil.

Light exploded. The reflection screamed — a distorted, broken sound — before fracturing like glass. The lake stilled again, empty, silent.

Kael collapsed.

Eira caught him before he hit the ground. His skin was burning hot, the glow pulsing erratically. "Kael! Kael, stay with me!"

Jorah crouched beside them, eyes wide. "Please tell me we didn't just vaporize his soul."

Kael's breathing was ragged, but he was alive. Barely. "He's not gone," he rasped. "Just… hiding. He's learning."

Eira frowned. "Learning what?"

Kael looked up at her — and his voice was barely a whisper. "How to be me."

The silence around them seemed to thicken. Even Jorah didn't have a joke for that.

Eira looked out over the motionless horizon, her expression hardening. "Then we find a way to stop him before he becomes something we can't."

Kael's eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion overtaking him. "Then you'd better hurry," he murmured. "Because I don't know how long I'll still be me."

Eira's hand tightened around his. "Then we don't waste another second."

Behind them, the reflection in the lake flickered once more — just enough for Kieran's voice to whisper faintly through the still air:

"Tick… tock."

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