The forest whispered when it dreamed.

Kael didn't sleep much that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard the ticking — faint but constant, like a clock buried beneath the earth. It wasn't his imagination. The mark on his wrist pulsed in rhythm with it, glowing faintly through the dark.

He sat up before dawn, tossing a twig into the fire. Jorah was snoring, wrapped in his cloak, muttering something about "better pay for this nonsense." Kael chuckled quietly and rose.

The new blade — the one he'd stolen from the Hound — shimmered beside him, blue runes crawling lazily along its length. He hadn't named it yet. Naming weapons was sentimental, and Kael didn't do sentimental. Usually.

He strapped it to his back and scanned the treeline. Something was out there. Watching.

"Come out," he said softly. "Before I decide to burn the forest just to prove a point."

A dry laugh answered him. "Still as dramatic as ever."

Kael froze. He knew that voice — or thought he did. He turned.

A woman stepped out from the shadows of the trees, her cloak made of spider silk and her eyes glowing faintly white. Her hair was the color of frost, her skin pale as candlelight. Around her neck hung a pendant shaped like a broken hourglass.

Kael's grin faltered. "You've got to be kidding me."

She smiled. "Hello, Kael. It's been… centuries."

---

Jorah stirred awake at the sound of voices, squinting. "Who's— what—? Please tell me we're not being murdered before breakfast."

Kael waved a hand dismissively. "Relax. She's just the creepiest person I know."

The woman tilted her head. "Flattery. You haven't changed."

"Neither have you, Elira," Kael said. "You're still haunting forests and speaking in riddles?"

"Someone has to," she replied. "Mortals forget too easily."

Jorah blinked between them. "Wait—you know her?"

Kael sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. She's a seer. A real one. Doesn't read palms or tea leaves—she reads time."

Elira smirked. "And you, of course, went and broke it."

---

Kael crossed his arms. "You mean the whole 'shattered timeline' thing? Not my fault. Mostly."

Elira's eyes flickered. "You used the Blades again."

Kael stiffened. "You felt that?"

"The entire weave felt that," she said, stepping closer. "You twisted a divine weapon against a celestial. The gods are screaming. Time itself shudders when you breathe."

Kael grinned faintly. "Nice to know I still make an impression."

"You're laughing at your own doom," she murmured.

"I'm consistent."

Jorah cleared his throat awkwardly. "So… are you two, like, old friends or exes or—"

"Don't," Kael and Elira said in perfect unison.

---

They walked together through the forest as morning light broke. Elira moved silently, every step precise, as though the world bent slightly to make room for her. Kael hated that about her — the way she always seemed one second ahead.

"Tell me why you're here," he said finally.

"You already know," she replied.

"Pretend I'm stupid."

"I don't have to pretend."

Kael rolled his eyes. "Elira."

She stopped beside a moss-covered ruin — an old stone arch swallowed by roots and time. "This," she said, "is where it began."

Kael frowned. "No. It began in the capital. In the throne room. You were there."

Elira shook her head. "You think too small. I mean where you began."

---

The ruins hummed faintly as they stepped closer. Symbols glowed beneath the dirt, faint blue lines forming a circular pattern. Kael recognized them instantly.

Chrono sigils.

He knelt, brushing the soil away. The marks pulsed with a heartbeat rhythm — the same as the one under his skin. His chest tightened.

"This is…" he whispered.

"Where you were forged," Elira finished softly. "The first Chrono Blade wasn't a weapon. It was a soul experiment."

Kael's head snapped up. "Explain."

"You were human once," she said. "But when they made the Blades — the tools to rewrite fate — they needed something to anchor them. A living conduit. A will strong enough to resist collapse."

Jorah swallowed. "You mean—he is one of them?"

Kael stood slowly. "I'm not a wielder," he said hollowly. "I am the damn blade."

---

Elira's expression softened, though her voice stayed cold. "Part of you, yes. When the Blades shattered, your essence scattered. The mark you carry is only one fragment. The rest are lost—buried across timelines."

Kael laughed bitterly. "So I'm a walking puzzle with missing pieces."

"You always were," she said. "But now the gods are searching. They want to gather the fragments before you do."

"Why?"

"To erase the paradox. To end the timeline where you still exist."

Kael's grin returned — sharp, dangerous. "Then I'll find them first."

"Kael," Elira warned. "Every time you tamper, you weaken the weave. You could unravel everything — even yourself."

He shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time."

---

Jorah looked between them helplessly. "You two talk like time's a toy."

"It is," Kael said. "A very breakable toy."

Elira sighed. "You joke because you're afraid."

He smiled faintly. "You remember me well."

For a moment, silence stretched. The forest's whispers faded, and Kael saw something in her eyes — something ancient, sad, and familiar.

She finally said, "The next fragment lies beyond the desert of mirrors. But reaching it means passing through the City of Chains."

Kael tilted his head. "That place still exists?"

"In this version, yes. But beware—the one who rules it remembers you."

"That narrows it down to everyone," he muttered.

Elira stepped closer. "Kael. Promise me you won't use the Blade again. Not until you understand what it costs."

He smirked. "No promises."

Her eyes flashed white. "Then time will claim you again."

"Get in line," he said softly.

---

She turned away, fading into mist as sunlight cut through the trees. The ruins dimmed, their glow sinking back into the earth. When she vanished completely, the ticking in Kael's wrist grew louder — echoing like laughter.

Jorah sighed. "You attract terrifying women."

Kael smiled. "It's part of my charm."

"So we're actually going to the City of Chains?"

Kael tightened the strap on his pack. "Where else? If the gods want a game, I'll play. But this time—"

He drew the blue-bladed sword, its runes burning faintly like heartbeat light.

"—I'm choosing the ending."

The forest went silent again. Somewhere far away, a clock began to count backward.

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