Night had settled over the town by the time Kael, Eira, and Jorah reached the inn. The lanternlight flickered against the wooden beams, casting warm gold across the walls. Outside, the world was still—too still, Kael thought.

Something pulsed beneath the quiet.

He felt it like a whisper in his bones.

Eira paused at the threshold, her hand resting unconsciously near her sword. "Do you feel that?" she whispered.

Kael hesitated. "Yes."

Jorah stopped mid-step, squinting. "Please tell me you two are talking about the chill in the air and not another cosmic migraine from beyond reality."

But Kael didn't answer.

Because the whisper was growing louder.

Not sound.

Not magic.

Something older.

Something woven into the world's fabric.

The three of them pushed open the inn door, stepping inside. The common room was crowded—villagers chatting, travelers eating, a bard gently plucking a lute in the corner. It was all normal, almost shockingly so.

But Kael sensed it anyway.

The threads of time were vibrating.

Every living soul in the room shimmered faintly, like a candle flame touched by wind only he could feel.

Eira noticed his stare. "Kael," she said softly. "What is it?"

He exhaled slowly. "The world is… humming."

Jorah blinked. "Great. Wonderful. Just what I need. A humming apocalypse."

Kael ignored the sarcasm, moving slowly between the tables until he reached the center of the room.

People were smiling. Eating. Drinking. Laughing.

But their shadows—

their shadows lagged behind by a heartbeat.

Kael froze.

Eira inhaled sharply.

Jorah stepped closer, his hand drifting to his dagger.

And then—

The bard's lute snapped a string.

Except…

No sound followed.

The string broke in silence.

Silence thick enough to choke on.

Kael took a step back.

Everyone in the inn looked up at once.

Not gradually.

Not naturally.

All at once.

As if pulled by a single thread.

Eira's breath faltered. "This isn't real…"

Every face in the room stared at Kael.

Not blinking.

Empty.

Waiting.

Jorah whispered, "Okay, yep. Nope. I'm leaving my body. Tell my ghost I said hi."

Kael's heartbeat thundered.

And then they spoke.

All of them.

At the same time.

A single voice, layered with hundreds, the sound bending reality around it:

"Found you."

The word slammed into Kael's skull like a blade made of memory and time.

His knees buckled.

The Chrono Blade pulsed weakly at his side.

Eira grabbed his arm. "Kael—stay with me!"

Jorah stepped in front of them, daggers drawn. "Show yourself! Or at least have the decency to appear as something killable!"

The villagers—no, the puppets—tilted their heads in unison.

Their voices—hundreds of them—spoke again, the sound grinding like shifting stone:

"You survived erasure.

Impossible.

Unacceptable."

Kael staggered forward, fury and fear twisting inside him.

"Who are you?"

The voices chuckled—soft, ancient, unamused.

"We are what your world rests upon."

"We are the first stitch."

"The loom.

The thread.

The memory."

Eira's hand tightened around Kael's, grounding him.

Jorah whispered, "Okay… I'm hearing a lot of creepy metaphor for one night."

Kael's eyes narrowed, his voice steady despite his pulse racing.

"You're the Source."

Silence fell.

Then—

The shadows of every person in the room stretched, bending across the floor toward Kael, like hands grasping.

The voices spoke, colder now:

"You should not exist."

Eira stepped in front of him instantly. "Try and take him. I dare you."

The shadows froze.

Then slowly, carefully, they pulled back, retreating to their owners.

The lights in the inn flickered.

People blinked—confused, dazed—returning to themselves without knowing they'd been puppets.

A woman dropped her spoon. "What… was I… saying?"

A man rubbed his forehead. "Feels like I fell asleep with my eyes open."

The room erupted into murmurs, none realizing what had just spoken through them.

Kael stood in the center, trembling slightly, breath uneven.

Eira touched his cheek. "Kael…?"

He swallowed.

"It saw me."

Jorah rubbed his temples. "And? Was that just cosmic small talk or were we supposed to take something from that?"

Kael whispered, "It knows I wasn't supposed to survive. It knows the timeline failed to erase me."

"And it's angry?" Jorah asked.

"No," Kael said. "Not angry."

His voice dropped.

"Worse."

Eira exhaled. "It's afraid."

Kael nodded slowly.

"The Source feared me so much it manipulated time itself to remove me. It altered memories. Wrote new ones. Created a world where I died."

Eira stepped closer. "And you defied it."

The Chrono Blade pulsed again.

Kael whispered, "It's coming. Not now… but soon."

Jorah muttered, "Great. Epic nightmare god incoming. Do we get at least one day of peace first?"

Kael didn't answer.

Because something else was happening.

Outside the inn window, the sky shimmered.

Not the stars.

The air.

Threads of light stretched thin across the darkness like cracks, shimmering white-blue.

Eira turned, eyes wide. "Kael—what is that?"

Kael felt the truth slam into him.

"It's unraveling."

"The world?" Jorah asked.

"No," Kael said.

"Reality."

A single thread of light snapped across the sky—silent but blinding.

Eira grabbed Kael's arm. "We need to move. Now."

Jorah backed toward the door. "Agreed. Preferably very far, very fast."

But Kael didn't move.

He stared at the sky, lips parting in horror.

Because through the cracks…

something was watching back.

A vast shape behind the empty space.

Not form.

Not body.

Something like an eye, woven from time itself.

And it was focused entirely on Kael.

He whispered, "It's not waiting anymore."

Behind them, somewhere in the inn, a child began to cry, unaware of why.

Eira stepped in front of Kael, fierce and unwavering. "Then it can come. I'm not leaving your side."

Jorah growled. "And if some ancient reality-eating creature wants a fight, we'll give it one."

Kael tore his gaze from the sky, looking at the two people who had stood beside him through death, erasure, and rebirth.

His voice was soft.

"We can't fight it yet."

Eira blinked. "Why?"

Kael exhaled.

"Because the final thread hasn't snapped."

Jorah frowned. "What thread?"

Kael looked between them, the fear in his chest heavy and sharp.

"The one tying us to the timeline we stole back."

Another crack of light rippled through the sky.

The Source was coming.

Eira grabbed Kael's hand.

Jorah drew both daggers.

And Kael whispered:

"The storm begins now."

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