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The starlight arrow struck the ground inches from Kael's foot, sending out a pulse of energy that rippled through the marble street. He threw his arm up instinctively, shielding Ayame as the pavement cracked beneath them.
"Snipers?" Kael hissed.
"No," Yui whispered, staring upward. "Hunters. Dreambound ones."
Above them, perched on the twisted spire of an upside-down temple, stood three figures. All wore cloaks stitched from celestial maps, and their eyes glowed with a soft, spectral blue. Their weapons were oddly shaped—bows that bent like crescents, and blades that hummed as if whispering old lullabies.
One of them leapt.
They landed soundlessly a few meters away, graceful and surreal, like a ballerina made of starlight.
Ayame tensed. "Friend or foe?"
The figure didn't move for a moment. Then, with a strange, precise motion, they pulled back their hood—revealing a face eerily familiar.
Ayame's.
But older. Harder. Her eyes were tired, one side of her face scarred like cracked porcelain.
"I remember this day," the older Ayame said. Her voice was layered with exhaustion, but also an ache too heavy for time to smooth. "I remember *you*—bright-eyed and so sure you could fix everything."
Kael stepped between them. "What is this? Another Cradleborn?"
"No," Yui said slowly. "She's from a tethered timeline. One that never collapsed. She's not here to fight."
Older Ayame looked at Yui, and something like relief flickered across her features. "You still remember me. That means there's still hope."
Ayame stared at her future self. "What happened to you?"
"Everything," her future self said simply. "And now I'm here to stop you from doing what I did."
Ayame's jaw clenched. "Which was?"
"Taking the sixth key."
Kael bristled. "We *need* that key to stop the Cradleborn."
"I thought so too," Future Ayame said. "But the moment I touched it, the path to salvation closed. My Kael—he didn't make it. The key doesn't just unlock power—it demands sacrifice."
Ayame's breath hitched.
Kael looked between them. "So what, we just give up?"
"No," the older Ayame said, stepping forward. "You find a *different* way. Something I didn't try. That's why I'm here. To give you the map."
From beneath her cloak, she unfurled a strange scroll made of black parchment. Runes danced across it like fireflies. It pulsed softly in Ayame's presence.
"This shows the alternative paths," Future Ayame explained. "Timelines where the key isn't the endgame."
Yui stared at the map, awe blooming on her face. "You made this?"
"I bled for it."
Suddenly, thunder cracked across the skyline. A low droning hum began to rise—like a thousand televisions on static. The sky began to darken in a spiral.
The Cradleborn were breaching the city's defenses.
"We're out of time," Kael said.
Older Ayame turned to Ayame. "You *can* take the key—but only if you accept what follows. Or you take the map, and gamble everything on finding a better road."
Ayame hesitated.
The golden prism still floated behind them, gleaming with promise. But the scroll in her future self's hand pulsed with something gentler—hope tethered by pain, not power.
She looked at Kael.
"I don't care what version of the future I become," she said softly. "As long as *we* make it through."
Kael reached for her hand.
"We choose together."
Ayame turned to her future self. "Give me the map."
As the scroll touched her palm, a surge of memories—not hers—flooded her vision. A hundred timelines. A hundred possible Ayames. Ones who fell. Ones who won. Ones who never met Kael.
She nearly collapsed, but Kael caught her.
Then the scream of the Cradleborn hit them full force.
The city walls cracked.
Yui shouted something, pulling open a veil of energy. "This way! To the conduit tunnel!"
They ran.
Behind them, the echoes of broken timelines poured through the sky like black rain. Twisted versions of people they knew and loved. A storm of might-have-beens.
Ayame didn't look back.
Not this time.
They plunged into the tunnel as the Threshold city began to fold in on itself. The portal sealed shut behind them, cutting off the howls and the light.
Silence.
Then Kael laughed—half in shock, half in relief. "Well... we're still alive."
"Barely," Ayame muttered.
Yui pressed a hand to the wall. "The conduit will take us to the next realm. But after that… there's no going back."
Kael exhaled. "Let's hope forward is better."
Ayame opened the scroll again, the runes already reconfiguring.
They had a new path.
But a voice echoed faintly behind her—one that didn't come from any of them.
A whisper.
"I remember this choice."
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