Asher's chest tightened painfully, the air leaving his lungs as he turned slowly to face the haunting presence behind him.
There stood the Time Wraith, a fractured remnant of the woman he had once cherished more than life itself. Her sickly radiant-white hair shimmered like dying starlight, each strand appearing fragile enough to snap at the gentlest touch.
Jagged spikes of bone erupted cruelly from her skull and shoulders, physical reminders of endless battles against the unyielding currents of fate.
Her skin, pale as porcelain yet etched with luminous white scars, pulsed silently with a sorrowful rhythm. Each scar marked a failed attempt to reshape destiny, the consequences of tampering with the fundamental laws of reality. Her eyes blazed—two radiant voids, infinite and cold, devoid of pity, devoid of hate, filled only with a profound, unending emptiness.
