From the throne, Keles's eyes lowered to watch them, the smile on her lips deepening ever so slightly.
Then the world bent. Kairos moved not in the present, but along branching moments yet to come. For an instant, there were three of him:
One sweeping in low, his blade angled to sever her arm.
One appearing directly above, dropping with a strike aimed for her crown.
One standing perfectly still, watching for the instant she reacted.
The strikes came together, a web of future possibilities woven around her.
Keles didn't rise.
The shadows surged from beneath her throne, not toward the Kairos in front of her, but into the future itself. The first attacker's thread snapped like a frayed cord, the possibility of his strike erased before the blade could connect. The one above her dissolved mid-fall, as though he had never been real.
