The wilderness began where the light of the City of Dawn faded.

Beyond its silver walls, the world changed—wild, unmeasured, untamed. The air itself carried a strange hum, like the faint echo of a clock whose pendulum had long stopped swinging but still remembered motion.

Kael walked ahead, boots crunching on soil that glittered faintly underfoot. The ground pulsed with the residue of collapsed timelines—fossilized seconds, frozen in the shape of old realities. The grass wasn't green so much as alive with color that refused to stay still. Every few steps, the sky changed shades, flickering between dusk and dawn as if it couldn't decide which moment it belonged to.

Jorah kicked a pebble that promptly turned into a frog, then exploded into sand.

"I hate this place already," he said flatly. "Time shouldn't breathe."

Eira adjusted her cloak, scanning the horizon. "It's not breathing," she said. "It's dreaming."

Kael glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "That's poetic for someone who stabbed a sentient clock last week."

"It tried to bite me first."

Jorah groaned. "Yeah, because that makes it better."

They continued along the winding path—or what pretended to be a path. The wilderness didn't stay still for long. Trees appeared and disappeared between blinks, rivers flowed backward, and once, Kael swore he saw the faint outline of a city floating upside down in the clouds before it faded like mist.

Eira slowed as they reached a clearing. "Look."

At the center of the field was something vast and circular—a structure half-buried in the ground. Its edges glowed with faint blue light, and strange symbols ran along its surface, pulsing in rhythm like a heartbeat.

Kael crouched beside it, brushing away dirt. The markings were familiar, but older than anything he'd seen. "It's a Chrono Gate," he murmured. "A broken one."

Jorah frowned. "Gate to where?"

Kael stood, squinting at the faint energy shimmering above it. "Not where," he said. "When."

Eira's hand went instinctively to her weapon. "You think someone's been using it?"

Before Kael could answer, the air around them rippled. A faint vibration crawled up his spine—a pulse, rhythmic, alive. The grass shivered, and for a brief moment, every shadow in the clearing turned to look at him.

Then came the sound—a low, distorted hum that wasn't quite a voice but carried the shape of one.

"...Found you."

Jorah unsheathed his sword instantly. "Nope. Hate that. Hate everything about that."

The hum intensified. From the edge of the clearing, the air fractured.

Figures emerged—six of them—each outlined by a flickering glow, as though the world couldn't decide if they existed. Their faces were blurred, their armor mismatched, but their eyes burned like cold suns.

Temporal hunters.

Kael's blood ran cold.

Eira stepped in front of him, blades drawn. "Friends of yours?"

"Worse," Kael muttered. "They're remnants—time wraiths. Sent to erase paradoxes."

Jorah's grip tightened. "And we qualify as one?"

Kael smirked. "Oh, absolutely."

The first hunter moved—fast, blurring forward in a streak of light. Kael met its strike, the Chrono Blade flashing as their weapons clashed. Sparks exploded in all directions. The force sent Kael sliding backward across the dirt.

"Eira! Jorah! Don't get caught in their field!" he shouted.

Eira lunged at another, moving with sharp precision, her blades slicing through the ghostly figure. It howled—a sound like cracking glass—and dissolved into static. But two more replaced it immediately.

Jorah swung his sword in wide arcs, bellowing curses that would make a sailor blush. "I stab one, two more show up! What kind of discount minion sale is this?"

"They're feeding off time energy!" Kael yelled back. "The longer we stay, the more they'll multiply!"

"So we run?"

Kael's grin returned, wild and bright. "We improvise."

He stabbed his sword into the dirt. The Chrono Blade pulsed—then exploded in a shockwave of blue light. Time itself rippled outward, freezing the world in a single frame for one impossible second.

When it resumed, the hunters staggered, disoriented.

Kael took the chance. "Now!"

Eira and Jorah sprinted beside him as Kael turned the energy of the gate against them. He twisted the Blade, channeling power into the runes etched in the stone. The old structure flared, then roared to life, creating a swirling vortex of fractured time.

The hunters screeched as the pull began—one by one, they were dragged into the spiraling void, their bodies stretching and shattering into light.

The last one reached for Kael, its hand brushing his chest.

"Paradox," it hissed. "You should not exist."

Kael smirked through the flicker of pain. "Get in line."

He kicked the creature into the vortex—and the gate imploded, vanishing in a burst of blinding white.

When the light faded, the clearing was silent again. The air shimmered faintly, still buzzing with residual energy.

Jorah sat down hard, panting. "I swear, if one more thing calls you a paradox, I'm going to start charging them for therapy."

Eira glanced at Kael. "You okay?"

He wiped a streak of blood from his cheek. "Yeah. Just another Tuesday."

She gave him a look. "You realize you nearly tore a hole through time, right?"

Kael shrugged. "Wouldn't be my first."

Jorah flopped backward with a groan. "Someone bury me in a timeline where people nap more."

Kael chuckled, but his smile faded as his eyes returned to the spot where the gate had been. The soil there was scorched black, but something remained—an imprint. A symbol, faint but unmistakable: a gear with an eye at its center.

Eira followed his gaze. "What's that?"

Kael crouched, tracing the mark with his finger. His expression darkened.

"It's the mark of the Keeper."

Jorah sat up instantly. "The who-now?"

"The one who built the timelines," Kael said quietly. "The architect behind all of this."

Eira's brow furrowed. "I thought they were a myth."

"They were," Kael said. "Until now."

The wind picked up, rustling through the grass. The faint hum of the wilderness grew louder—no longer random, but rhythmic. Like something vast and ancient stirring beneath the surface.

Kael stood, the Chrono Blade vibrating faintly in his grasp. "He knows we're here."

Jorah exhaled slowly. "Fantastic. The universe's biggest control freak just noticed us."

Kael turned to the others, his grin returning—reckless and bright despite everything. "Good. Maybe it's time someone laughed in his face too."

Eira stared at him. "You can't be serious."

"Always am," Kael said. He looked toward the shimmering horizon, where faint ruins glowed like constellations. "Let's go find the Keeper."

Jorah groaned. "Of course. Because 'running toward the cosmic entity that built reality' is definitely a sane plan."

Kael glanced back at him with a wink. "Sane's overrated."

They set off again, their silhouettes framed by a sky that couldn't decide if it was morning or night.

And somewhere far beyond sight—deep in the gears of creation itself—a presence stirred, watching them with amusement.

For the first time in eternity, the Keeper smiled.

The paradox had decided to walk toward him.

And time, once again, began to laugh.

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