Nobody moved for what felt like a full minute.
The wind had stopped. The runes on the towers still pulsed, but slower now — like a heartbeat settling after a sprint. The golden light from the breach had faded, leaving only the pale gray of early dawn and the impossible man standing ten feet in front of me.
Me. But not me.
Kaelon was the first to react. He stepped forward, blade raised, positioning himself between me and... me.
"Don't," I said.
"Drayk—"
"I said don't."
The other me watched this with an expression I recognized. Patience. The kind you develop when you've seen the same scene play out a hundred times and you already know how it ends.
"Your friend's loyal," he said. "Good. He was loyal in my timeline too."
"Your timeline," I repeated.
"We have a lot to talk about." He looked past me at the group. His eyes — solid gold, no iris, no pupil — moved from face to face. Stopped on Orzoth. "Architect. You look younger than I remember."
